I Don't Share

by Pseudonym_of_a_Ghost, Xaelei

Summary:

Vox used to be Alastor’s friend. Then he became Alastor’s rival or even Alastor’s enemy. But the important thing is that he is Alastor’s.

Alastor, however, seemed to miss the memo that Vox has been dating Valentino for a few decades now. He isn’t particularly pleased with the moth touching something that belongs to him.

Time to reclaim his picture box.

Chapter 1: A Rosy Disposition for Gossip

Notes:

Sorry this took so long to get out, but it's here now! Hope you enjoy!

Alastor sat down at a table in Rosie’s Emporium and watched the residents converse with mild interest. Twirling his cane absentmindedly before weaving his fingers together and eyeing his friend from behind the counter, entertaining a variety of her people lining up to ask for her aid. He had agreed to wait while his old friend finished her business. It had just been a little over a month since the war between Heaven and Hell and he needed a break from all the hubbub in the hotel. He needed someone to have a meaningful conversation with, and Rosie had always been delightful company, after all. 

A cup of black coffee appeared before him, courtesy of a familiar cannibal that knew his tastes well. He nodded gratefully as he sipped the beverage. His tongue relished at the acidic bitterness and he sighed, letting his thoughts wander.

The fight against the angels was a success, despite his annoyance regarding the outcome of his battle with Adam. Regardless, it was his thrall that ultimately gave the final blow so, in a way, he could interpret it as his success by proxy. 

Rosie eventually ran toward him, breathing out a tired sigh before sitting in front of him, a cup of tea handed to her by the same waitress that gave him his drink. She drank it contentedly before turning to him with an apologetic expression. “Sorry for the wait, Al. It's a bit busy today and I really have my work cut out for me. Love problems are popping out everywhere it seems.”

“Nothing to worry about, my dear. I feel nothing but gratitude that you would spare time for me despite your busy schedule.”

“Nonsense! Why wouldn't I put time aside for an old friend? Especially after the  angelic feast we got to enjoy after our last meeting.” Rosie grinned before leaning forward expectantly. “Any juicy gossip happening at the hotel since the battle? Heard it's gone through quite the makeover.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “To be honest with you, darling, I favor the rustic and beaten down version. I do believe that it suited it better. Unfortunately, I was away during the renovations and wasn't able to give my two cents. That blasted king influenced most of its design.”

“Lucifer!” Rosie exclaimed, lightly clapping her hands together in excitement, “In all my years down here, I barely have any information about him. Please, do tell. What's he like?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed and he glared at the mug, picturing the angel’s annoying grin and punchable cheeks. “It’s not a surprise not much is known about the tiny hermit. Prior to his unfortunate visit, he was content staying quiet in the palace. I’m devastated he didn’t continue his isolation.” He gripped his cane, imagining it was a pale, white neck instead. “I assure you, Rosie; the king is not as regal as one would expect. He’s a pest that managed to slither his way into my domain in an effort to reconcile with Charlie. It's pathetic, really. If it weren't for the infuriating power gap, I’d love nothing more than to rip out his wings and crush his short limbs. I'm not even sure I’d even deign to eat him.”

“Your words cut deep, Alastor. If you’re this open about your disdain for him, I can only imagine what it’s like living with him. I’d advise you to hold your tongue but that wouldn’t be much fun, would it? Careful, though. He's still the king,” Rosie chided, raising a brow but looking amused.

“Royal or not, he’s a thorn on my side I’d much rather rip out. Rosie, dear, this topic annoys me. I’d like to talk about something else. My temper fluctuates with just the thought of him and my aim right now is to flush him and the stress from the menagerie I just escaped from.”

Rosie chuckled, shaking her head fondly and sipping her tea. “There's an Overlord meeting coming up,” she said, making Alastor's ears perk up in interest, “The most likely topic would be to prepare for whatever retaliation Heaven is going to send to make up for their humiliating loss.”

Carmilla had specified that all Overlords be in attendance. He would finally see his omega after so long. He’d been so busy trying to weave together his thoughts and planning around the deal he was chained to that the only interaction they had had was a public argument. He wasn’t even able to see him in person and smell his scent. Maybe he could even squeeze in a bit of a scuffle for old time’s sake.

“But I do wonder about something, Alastor,” Rosie said, recapturing his attention from his thoughts of a potential battle , “How did you know angelic weapons would work?”

Alastor smiled proudly, happy to answer. “All I needed to do was a bit of sleuthing with the recently deceased snake’s tiny little egg minions. Carmilla was the first one to discover the angels’ little secret. This little morsel of information gave me quite the opportunity to gain something valuable.”

One favor he had yet to cash in.

“I see. It appears Velvette was right with what she, not so subtly, suggested during the last meeting.”

“About that, I’d like to ask who exactly the young Overlord is?” Alastor asked, eyes narrowed, “While I am regrettably aware of who the Vees are, I haven't invested much time getting any information on Vox’s allies. Care to enlighten me, dear?”

“Oh that’s right. The two of you wouldn’t have met before given she became an Overlord shortly after your little disappearing act.” Rosie gave a knowing smirk that gave Alastor pause before it turned back to her charming smile. “Velvette is the Overlord of fashion and social media. Not much to our tastes since hers gives off the modernity the Vees are known for. She's, as she claimed, “the backbone of the Vees” and is in charge of keeping track of their reputation under public eye. I heard she also serves as a buffer between Valentino and Vox.”

Alastor knew Valentino but he wanted nothing to do with the disgusting moth nor was he interested in knowing anything remotely related to the insect.

“There were even rumors that they were in a relationship.”

Alastor strained to keep smiling and the grip on his newly mended cane tightened. He kept his face and voice neutral before saying, “And what are they exactly?”

“Oh,” Rosie started, pausing to clear her throat and taking longer to answer, as if on purpose. Alastor grit his teeth. “In a way, she’s his daughter. Not biological, of course since the years wouldn't match up, but a lovely bond all the same. You see, Vox had apparently taken her in near immediately upon her appearing in Hell. When they found out they were rumored to be dating, they were thoroughly and mutually disgusted with the idea, making it clear that they were definitely not. Killed quite the number of sinners over it, actually.”

The tension left Alastor's body and he felt relief wash over him. “I see. How unusual for a beta to acquire a pup that isn’t their kin.”

Alastor knew Vox was an omega but no one else needed to know, excluding Velvette if she was indeed his pup. He wondered if Vox had ever told anyone else. He hoped not, hating the thought of other demons knowing a weakness of Vox’s.

“But not impossible. Both betas and omegas can still imprint on pups who haven’t presented. Given the delay between when one arrives in Hell and when their dynamic represents itself, it’s entirely plausible the two met before Velvette represented and thus managed to form a bond.” Rosie giggled. “It was initially a running joke since it's obvious how much he spoils the girl. But Zeezee finally spoke up in one of the meetings, you know how she is, and asked if she was his pup. Vox seemed annoyed by the invasion of privacy but didn't deny it. Positively adorable.”

“I see.” Alastor couldn’t wait for the meeting to commence. He needed to know more. Information might be a good way to weave through Hell’s obstacles, but garnering intel had never been a necessity for him due to the power and influence that came with being the Radio Demon. Additionally, he could tell that  his omega needed a reminder of his loyalty to him and he needed one as soon as possible. Alastor’s existence has always been a large part of Vox’s psyche, and he did everything prior to his disappearance to solidify that in order for it to persist even in his absence. Since he now had the favor with Charlie under his belt, he can finally place his attention on his box-headed possession.

The conversation continued, half of Alastor’s mind engaged in talking to Rosie and the other planning his first personal encounter with his amusing little picture box after seven years.

Notes:

Thank you so much to Xaelei for offering to collaborate with me on this!

Chapter 2: Stealing Queen and Crown

Summary:

Previously: Alastor and Rosie had a chat and some gossip. An upcoming Overlord Meeting was mentioned.

Alastor strode in the meeting room, on time and ready to take on his current endeavor. Some Overlords were already seated, eyeing him wearily. He ignored them, looking over the currently present sinners. The one he had his focus on was still not here. Odd. Usually Vox was early or punctual. He guessed that his compatriots may be to blame. Velvette was late in the last meeting, maybe she opted to do the same now. 

He sat down, Rosie entering shortly after. She sat beside him and they both greeted each other with mirrored smiles. He wondered how he should start with toying his Podcast, maybe a few verbal jabs and backhanded comments here and there? A few statements littered within the discussion to get the ball rolling and goad him nicely toward a physical altercation? The possibilities were endless! 

Finally, three overlords came in, headed by Vox. All of them had their gazes on their phones, barely looking up as they took the seats across the table. Alastor made sure to keep a pointed stare at Vox, using his static to reach over and cause prickled pokes of disruption at the waves radiating from him. Vox gave a small flinch before he looked up, eyes narrowing at Alastor. He grinned, giving a small wave that was met with a vulgar hand gesture. The moth noticed the exchange before landing his gaze on Alastor, narrowing his eyes and sitting closer to his ally. Alastor raised a brow, annoyed at the possessive gesture but waving it off, thinking nothing of it.

Carmilla appeared and took the helm, greeting the Overlords as they gave her their attention, some were interested in her plans and some didn't even bother to look like they cared. Alastor's eyes turned back to Vox, gaze trailing down to his figure. He seemed to look just as delectable as before. Did he still respond the same way?

Alastor grinned, slowly emitting his scent in Vox’s direction. His smile grew wider when the TV demon froze in place, eyes starting to glaze over before he shook his head, facing Alastor and glaring at him. Vox looked like he wanted to say something, but his eyes glanced at the others around them and he deigned to remain quiet. Now that wasn’t entertaining at all! Alastor was about to heighten his scent further when the overwhelming smell of sugar, and something else he couldn’t place but was disgusting all the same, filled the room. Carmilla stiffened and stopped talking. The other alphas in the room started to emit their own scents in response, their instinct to fight for dominance triggered.

Alastor noticed a pointed growl from Valentino, whose seat had the most potent amount of the sickly sweet smell. He glared back, gritting his teeth and ears pricked, feeling and returning the blatant animosity. He was distracted, however, by Vox who was still as a board next to him. It wasn't noticed by the others in the room but Alastor knew that posture, knew the panicked state he was in behind that neutral facade. He was an omega surrounded by a room full of alphas who were starting to get aggressive. The tension was palpable and the quick glitch he saw on Vox’s face showed enough to know he was in distress.

“Enough!” Carmilla bellowed, slamming both of her hands on the table. She turned to Valentino, furious, “How dare you insult everyone in attendance with the assault of your scent! Within this meeting, we are all within our vow to keep the peace among one another! Your sudden show of stupidity is considered an attack! Leash it. Now.”

Valentino looked livid, snarling before his scent started to fade away. The others reluctantly did the same, the air slowly clearing. Alastor didn't care much about the resolution of the problem. Vox was still in the same state if not a bit more agitated. The scents may have dissipated but it had already taken effect. No matter how much control the omega had, it was not an experience he can recover from so easily. 

He eyed at the cover around Vox’s neck, indiscernible to anyone who didn't know his mating glands were hidden beneath, where the scent of ozone and petrichor would surely be emitting in distress had Vox not upgraded himself to control such parts of himself decades ago.  Alastor cleared his throat loudly, all eyes suddenly on him. “I believe it would be best to adjourn the meeting early.”

Carmilla looked at him before her gaze turned to the other Overlords in the room. It was apparent some were still affected by the sudden onslaught of hormones. She was a smart woman. She knew she had to agree in case someone suddenly lost control and surrendered to their primal instincts. A turf war would look like a walk in the park were that to happen.

“I supposed that would be best—”

A fan unfurled and swiped next to him, blowing away a plume of pink smoke that was headed toward him. Alastor’s eyes widened in surprise as he turned to Rosie who folded back the fan and kept her smile as she tucked it back to her side.

“Are you intimidated, puto? Isn't that cute.”

Apparently, smart wasn't a trait reserved for large, insufferable insects. Alastor grimaced at him, stopping himself from reaching out towards Valentino with his tentacles and ripping his arms off. He relaxed his expression, laughing. “Far from it. I wouldn’t want blood splattered on my favorite coat. We had just gained enough Overlords again after I wiped out half this table decades ago.” His eyes turned to dials. “But then again, perhaps I should lessen this batch too? It wouldn’t hurt to lose one…”

Valentino stood, chair swiveling behind him and his large wings encompassed a large part of the room. Alastor saw Vox reaching out to touch his sleeve, clearly wanting to flee from this situation in his current state but Valentino wretched his arm away from his grasp, eyes focused on him. Alastor growled, his ears catching a small whimper coming from Vox as he flinched. It was fortunate Valentino’s wings covered his other allies. The show of weakness was a sign Vox was close to breaking, a sign of vulnerability the other Overlords could not be allowed to see. He tried to weigh his options when Carmilla marched up to the table, pulling Valentino by his collar, pulling his face a few inches from hers. “Get your associates and get out before I MAKE you.”

“Okay, this is bullshit,” the small girl with ponytails stood up, kicking Valentino in the shin, making the moth yelp in pain and stand down. Alastor liked this girl infinitely better. “I’m not about to sit back and let a geriatric bitch order us around. Even if one of us is acting like a stupid prick.” She gave the moth a dirty look.

Velvette pushed Valentino aside and took his place and glaring at Carmilla. “Only I get to bully these idiots and I’ll snap your neck if you don’t fuck off.”

Carmilla stood upright, unfazed. “Really? This coming from the leader of cowards who made such a big show about fighting angels and stood back as angels flew down from above. Pathetic.”

To Alastor’s surprise, Vox stood in between the two Overlord women, impressively covering the tremble of his hands by putting it behind his back. With a neutral tone bordering on bored, he countered, “Why waste our resources when the residents of the Princess’s little hotel were all for becoming our shield?”

“Preferring to leave the problem to your betters, Podcast?” Alastor asked coyly, not wanting to miss a chance to slip in a taunt. Vox rolled his eyes before he glared back at him. Relishing in the eye contact they had, Alastor moved forward, Carmilla stepping to the side with an annoyed sigh. “Was the First Man and his minions too much for your dysfunctional little team?”

Vox emitted a crackle of electricity, hands balling at his sides. “Big words from a bitch of a deer who got floored by a horned bird.” Vox put a claw against his chest, slowly dragging it down, leaving a trail of energy that made his fur stand on end. Alastor suppressed the need to flinch as the healing wound radiated pain at the sudden onslaught before he leaned back away from his touch. Vox chuckled. “Feeling a little sore there, Bambi?”

Before Alastor could retaliate, Zestial’s voice caught the room’s attention. “As diverting as all this may be, I warrant the other Overlords hath much else to attend than sit about and observe such a private show of intimacy. As Carmilla proclaimed, this meeting hath concluded. Everyone, I pray thee, file out.”

Alastor bristled at how Zestial had worded things, but the Overlords did as they were told, not wanting to earn the disfavor of one of the oldest beings in Hell. Carmilla was one of the last to leave, taking her documents with her, turning to them as her hand wrapped around the doorknob. “If you’d like to settle your discourse physically, I would strongly advise you to move away from my territory or I’ll have no choice but to point my resources toward all of you.”

She gave one last glare as a warning before closing the door behind her. The room had five occupants left: Alastor, Rosie, and the Vees.

“Let's fucking go!” Velvette shouted, pushing up her sleeves and looking more than ready to fight.

Rosie cut her off, smiling and putting both hands on her shoulders. “I believe it's better for both of us to wait patiently as these three have a civil discussion.” She looked pointedly at Alastor to which he responded with a shrug, nonverbally assuring her but leaving room for interpretation. Rosie rolled her eyes, hands still gripping firmly on Velvette’s struggling body.

Velvette turned to protest, meeting Rosie's razor sharp teeth before she stilled. Crossing her arms and huffing, she let herself be led away reluctantly.

Seeing her concede, Rosie loosened her hold and softened her smile. “I am quite curious, dear. I’d like to know more about the current fashion styles. As you can see.” She waved over her own attire. “I’m a bit behind.”

Velvette's eyes lit up as she burst into a flurry of brutal and colorfully worded insults critiques pertaining to her classic style and listed all the different outfits she demanded she model. Rosie, patient as ever, merely nodded, unabashed by her words and listening with interest as they walked out of the room. 

Before the door closed, Vox turned to the exit, eyebrows furrowing in worry before Valentino's hand shot out, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him into a tight embrace, all of his arms possessively wrapped around Vox, before planting his mouth against his. Alastor stared, shocked. He waited for the smell of burnt flesh but could only blanch when Vox kissed back just as fervently.

Snapping out of his stupor, he stepped toward them, tearing Vox away, tentacles holding Valentino to the wall before disappearing into his void with his omega.

Alastor had questions and he wasn't waiting to get the answers he needed.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading!

You guys have no idea how happy I get every time someone comments. I absolutely love reading them!

Chapter 3: Asserting Reality

Chapter by Pseudonym_of_a_Ghost

Summary:

Previously: After witnessing Valentino and Vox kissing at the Overlord Meeting, Alastor warped himself and Vox away to talk.

They appeared in the nearby outskirts. Alastor glared at Vox as the other stumbled to the ground, dizzy from the sudden change of location. It didn't take long for Vox to stand up, stepping toward him furiously. “What the fuck, Alastor!”

“I should be saying the same thing, old pal. How could you let that creature touch you?”

Vox looked at him disbelief, face momentarily glitching before he yelled sarcastically, “Oh, I'm sorry for kissing my fucking boyfriend!”

Alastor took a second to register his words. Boyfriend? Partner? Significant other? Vox had to be pulling his leg. He laughed, but the amusement wasn't there. “Really, Vox? Is this another ploy to get my attention?”

Vox looked genuinely baffled. “You actually didn't know?”

Alastor blinked, still trying to hold on to his denial that was swiftly waning. “Please, Podcast. Why would I ever think that low of you? You are and will always be pathetic in my eyes but to go so far as to be with one of the most disgusting sinners in H—”

Vox’s expression made him pause. His eyes were filled with anger but there were no signs of trickery. Alastor gripped his cane tighter behind his back and his smile grew strained, the feeling of incredulousness simmering into white hot fury. His voice lowered. “Does he know?”

“What do you—”

Alastor’s hands shot forward, grabbing Vox by his lapels and pulling him up. His eyes blackened and his antlers were pushing further through his scalp. “Does he know the truth! Answer me!”

Vox stared down at him, his confusion turning to bewilderment as he finally realized what Alastor meant. “What Val and I do together is none of your fucking business!” That was all Alastor needed to confirm. Valentino not only knew of Vox’s omega status but they had been together as alpha and omega.

Enraged, Alastor’s eyes turned to dials and his antlers extended. Noticing the danger, Vox sent a current through where he was being held and Alastor had no choice but to let Vox go from the electric shock. Alastor snarled, summoning his tentacles and wrapping one around Vox’s waist before throwing him into a nearby tree. The trunk broke on impact and Vox shouted in pain, his screen glitching. Recovering quickly, he crouched down before pouncing towards the deer, disappearing from view before appearing below him, punching him in the face with enough  force to nearly send Alastor to the ground before he steadied himself. A tentacle smashed into Vox’s screen causing him to glitch as cracks appeared on the glass. Vox shook his head to clear away the glitch and used his electricity to destroy the tentacle. He sent another charged bolt towards Alastor, temporarily blinding him. Vox took the opportunity to land an uppercut that left Alastor flying upward before his minions started appearing. They pulled Vox down, making him roar in frustration, trying but failing to destroy them as Alastor appeared from above, his elbow connecting to his back and pushing his body on the ground.

“You had one job.” Alastor took his arm, twisting it and burying him deeper against the dirt, his knee pushing against his spine, “You just needed to be a good little Picture Box and stay where you were. Now, I find out you're letting yourself be used by a disgusting pervert!”

Alastor felt cables wrap around his waist and pull him into the air, bashing his body against the nearby pole and zapping him with enough voltage that it threatened to fry him. 

“You have no say about who I’m with and who I sleep with, asshole! Newsflash! I'm not one of your thralls!” Vox yelled, his cables lowering Alastor's body toward him as his blue claws wrapped around his throat, “You made it clear how I meant nothing to you, why the fuck would I give a shit about what you have to say about my decisions! Why do you give a fuck anyway?”

Alastor's teeth clamped down on his arm, making him yelp and pull it away. Green energy went through the cable, making it loosen its grip and allowing Alastor to free himself of the restraint and shoot his own hands forward to grab Vox’s screen and smash it against his knee. There was the gleam of smashed glass as pieces fell to the floor before Alastor felt metal vibrate against his fingertips and a sharp pain in his shin that radiated up his leg. He crouched down on his affected knee before a punch drove his face to the ground.

Before Alastor knew it he was pinned down and looking up at Vox, one side of his face smashed. Vox glared down at him. 

Alastor’s smile grew strained before he spat, “I didn't know you’d be that desperate for an alpha to bring you to bring you to your knees after how hard you’ve worked to keep your second gender hidden.” Vox’s expression was replaced with a horrified look and his screen glitched. “Was it a relief, hm? To finally submit to the weakness of being an omega? To settle for any alpha who’d deign to look at you?”

Alastor laughed. The pain in Vox’s face was the factor he needed to focus on to cover the panic that his omega might have been mated while he was away. “Have you let yourself be bonded? Did you let yourself fall into ruin as his teeth sunk into your neck?”

The image of another alpha’s mark marring his omega’s neck made him see red.

“Al?” Vox’s eyes grew wide and slightly distressed as Alastor grabbed him and flipped their positions, holding him down, before his expression morphed into a scowl instead. “Get the fuck off me! The fuck are you trying to pull?!”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he stared down at Vox; he wasn’t looking at Vox’s face, but his neck instead. If Vox was actually dating that insect then—

Alastor summoned his tentacles to take his place, keeping Vox restrained, as he reached for Vox’s neck. Decades ago, Vox had covered his mating glands with a casing to protect himself and disguise his scent. Nearly invisible, unless one knew how to look for it. Alastor’s claws dug into the small seams and tore it from his neck.

“Ah! What the fuck?!” Vox shouted, trying to twist himself free. The struggling beneath Alastor turned frantic, desperate to get away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?”

Alastor had never tried to use his omega status against him before, and he never wanted to. The fact that he was doing so now was something he knew he would regret later. But, he had to know. The need to ascertain was too much for him to push against. 

Alastor froze, looking down at Vox’s face as tears started running down his screen, slipping off the edge and falling to the ground below. “Alastor. Please let go of me.”

Vox’s voice sounded broken and it made Alastor freeze. Vox stopped struggling, his body trembling below him. He was pleading, actually terrified of what he could do. Alastor cleared his head. The fact that he was holding an omega under him and so close to forcefully claiming him was not a position he expected himself to be in. He shook his head before his fingers trailed to Vox’s neck, ignoring how he flinched away. He sighed, relieved it was clear of any blemish. He was about to call off his tentacles when a scent he hadn't smelled in so long wafted in his senses. 

Ozone and petrichor.

Alastor felt his instincts turn up at such a delicious smell and he leaned down, eyes glazed and half-lidded. He put his face against his neck and inhaled deeply, relishing in the amount of pleasure it sent through his body. There was a whine and he realized it was coming from Vox. Apparently, he wasn't the only one reacting to their close proximity.

Alastor could just open his mouth, his saliva already threatening to make him drool over the chance to just press his teeth against his skin and bite down. Then they’d be bonded. Vox would have no choice but to go to him. Would look at no one but him. Would be making sweet sounds and begging underneath no one but him.

Alastor kissed his neck, making Vox gasp.

No.

If he was going to claim Vox, he wanted him to make the choice.

He inhaled one last time, making sure to embed the scent in his mind, before he pulled back. His tentacles withdrew but Vox stayed on the ground, screen a shade of pink and eyes wide. “Wh-what?”

“I’ll have to cut our meeting short, old pal. Preparations need to be made on my end and my patience grows thin. Have fun with your little moth play thing for the time being. If he hasn't claimed you until now–” Alastor's eyes turned to dials and his power heightened, making Vox sit up, “–make sure it stays that way.”

Vox stared at him, eyebrows furrowed as he slowly stood up. “What the fuck–”

“Oh, don't worry, my dear. You’ll find out soon enough.” Alastor laughed as he disappeared into his shadow.

Notes:

Alastor isn't pleased to discover Vox and Val's relationship goes beyond business.

Chapter 4: Love and Depravity

Summary:

Previously: After Alastor kidnapped Vox from the Overlord Meeting, he found out that Vox and Val were dating. Alastor and Vox then fought which led to a "too close" encounter where Alastor ripped off Vox's mating-gland cover, his possessiveness on clear display. After confirming that Vox was not mated, he left.

Valentino paced back and forth in the dimly lit room, his heart pounding in his chest. Alastor had taken Vox away, and he didn't know where they were or what they were doing. How dare that smug bastard kidnap his boyfriend!

The topic of Alastor was something that barely came up due to the fact that Vox always avoided any mention of the deer. The main points Valentino had gleaned from the years he and Vox had been together was that they were close, they had a fall out, and now they’re so-called “rivals”. But there had to be more than this. It was obvious whatever relationship they had ran deep, or at least, deep enough to be a threat to Valentino’s current standing in Vox’s heart.

Valentino's thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Alastor had always been a bit of a mystery to him, but he knew one thing for certain - that radio fucker wanted Vox. It was written all over his face whenever he looked at Vox, the way he stared at him like he wanted to devour him whole. The deer could pretend otherwise all he liked, but Valentino knew what desire fucking looked like. Now that he thought about it, the way Vox reacted wasn’t so subtle either. Usually, it would take more than a snide remark to rile up Vox; he was the type who usually ignored people he couldn’t care less about, which was the majority. But it was obvious he cared enough to blow up at the mention of Alastor’s name. He even made a literal song and dance duet with him on live television when he found out he was back. Valentino had only mentioned it to tease him. Apparently, it got more of a reaction than he expected.

Valentino noticed how during the overlord meeting, Alastor had sent his scent towards Vox. It was a subtle move, one that most wouldn't have picked up on. But it was enough to set his teeth on edge. He knew what the deer was doing. But why? If Alastor knew Vox as a beta, what would be the use of him sending his scent?

Valentino’s fist connected with the wall, debris falling in chunks to the floor. The only reason he could think of was that Alastor knew Vox was an omega—an unclaimed one at that. No. This wouldn’t do. He was not losing Vox to a has-been alpha who thinks they can take what was his when it was convenient for them. 

Admittedly, he was a bit worried. If Alastor was finally over his whole denial thing, then what were the chances that Vox would go with him? Higher than he was comfortable with. Vox was his , and he would do whatever it took to keep him.

As Valentino continued to pace, his thoughts turned to their relationship. They had been together for a while now, and while it wasn't perfect, they had their moments of bliss. Vox was everything to him - his lover, his partner, his confidant. He couldn't imagine life without him by his side.

But there was something else lurking beneath the surface of their relationship - something darker. Valentino knew that he could be a bit violent at times, that he didn't always treat Vox the way he should. But he couldn't help himself - the power dynamic between them was intoxicating, and it gave him a sense of control that he craved. He didn’t really understand what was wrong with it. They were born into a dynamic for a reason, there’s an innate dominance alphas need to embody, and didn’t Vox love it when he was being taken cared of or doted on? It was a two way street. Valentino couldn’t just keep giving without getting anything back.

Fuck. Vox isn't coming back here, is he?

Without another thought, Valentino marched out of the room.

As Valentino stormed past Velvette and Rosie, he barely registered their presence. All he could think about was his Voxxy, and how that fucking deer had dared to kidnap him.

Velvette noticed the look of anger on Valentino's face and raised an eyebrow. "Valentino," she called out, "Where's Vox?"

Valentino stopped in his tracks, not even bothering to turn around. "Alastor took him," he growled, his voice thick with anger. "I don't know where they are."

"Well, that's just great," Velvette said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I knew the two of them couldn't hold a 'civil conversation.'" She gave Rosie a deadpan look.

Rosie merely shook her head and gave a sigh. "Those boys…"

"Come on, let's go back to the tower. Vox'll show back up eventually." Velvette followed Valentino to the exit and the two headed home.

---

Vox didn't show up until late into the night, and when he did, his screen was in pieces and bruises and cuts were all along what could be seen of his upper torso. Valentino rushed over to him, concern evident in his movements.

"Vox!" he exclaimed, grabbing him by the arms and examining his injuries. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just, y'know, Alastor ."

"That son of a bitch," Valentino growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I'll make him pay."

Vox looked at Valentino with a mixture of affection and amusement. "I'm fine, Tino. We just fought is all."

"Come on," he said, taking Vox by the hand and leading him to their bedroom. "Let me take care of you."

Vox allowed himself to be guided, his movements slow and careful due to his injuries.

Valentino couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as he tended to Vox's wounds. He loved seeing his lover vulnerable and in need of protection. It was a side of himself that he rarely acknowledged, but one that brought him an odd sense of satisfaction nonetheless.

“What did he even want to whisk you away like that?” he asked, trying to get more information as he continued cleaning his wounds. They were everywhere, some cuts still bleeding. As expected, this was worse than what Vox goes through when Valentino gets pissed off. At least he had one thing to compare his so-called “abuse” to.

Vox flinched under his touch when he grazed through some of the tender bruises. Smirking, he prodded them a bit more, making his lover groan in pain. In an apologetic tone, he said, “I’m so sorry, mi amor. It’s hard to tend to them without touching them.”

“It’s fine,” Vox said as his muscles stiffened further.

“You’re not answering me. What kind of conversation did you both have that led to this?”

These injuries weren’t as apparent as love marks but were still marks nonetheless, and Valentino had trouble keeping his temper leashed as he pulled back more fabric to find more. He grit his teeth. 

“It was nothing. He was taunting me about being blatantly affectionate or some shit. What did I expect? At his core, he’s just a geriatric fuck who can’t get with the times in Hell of all places.”

“Hmmm. So he didn’t like how we were making out?”

“N-no. Just, I think, making out in general.”

Though it was possible that reason was what ticked the deer off, Valentino needed something more to hang on to. He could almost smell the fear Vox had, and his nervousness wasn’t a very good sign.

“I don’t think you should let him get to you that easily,” Valentino said, applying cream while his other set of arms rolled the bandage around his chest, “Imagine how worried I was when he suddenly kidnapped you and I had no way of knowing where both of you went. Better to keep him at arm’s length, preferably farther.”

“Don’t worry, Val. I won’t let him—”

“Oh, but you did.” Val spun him around to face him and he relished the look of apprehension Vox had as he braced himself for an expected hit, but Valentino instead placed two hands against the opposite ends of his screen and kissed his forehead, “He’s unpredictable, cariño. I don’t want you ending up this way again. It worries me whenever you get hurt. It’s unacceptable.”

Vox’s shoulders relaxed, smiling up at him in appreciation. Valentino gave a small kiss on his lips and brushed his thumb through the cracked glass. “I love you, Vox. Don’t let him take you away from me. Never again, you understand?”

“I-I love you too,” Vox said, putting his hands on his and placing one against his lips to kiss his knuckles, as he should. The euphoria of playing with him as easy as this was intoxicating and Valentino had the need to pin him down right now, putting his own marks on him, but it could wait. It wouldn’t be ideal to do so when he’s wrapped around his finger so well.

"Thanks Val," Vox said, beaming at him, completely enamored. "I need to replace my screen, then let's go to bed, okay?"

Valentino watched as Vox replaced his screen with a new one, the shattered glass and electronic parts scattered across the floor.

Vox set the new screen in place and powered it back on. The image flickered to life, and Vox let out a sigh of relief. "There. All better."

Valentino nodded, holding onto Vox's hand. "I'm glad you're okay," he said softly, leading him to the bedroom where he would do his best to fulfill his duty as an alpha and keep his omega satisfied within his arms—where he belonged.

Notes:

Vox doesn't have the best luck with healthy relationships.

Also, do you guys think Alastor should get to redeem himself for what he did to Vox or not? It'll be hard, but maybe I can have him go through a character arc? What do you think?

Chapter 5: Introspection

Summary:

Previously: Valentino took care of and doted on Vox after his fight with Alastor.

Vox couldn't sleep that night. Thoughts of what had taken place plagued his mind. He replayed the events over and over again, trying to understand why Alastor would care about his relationship with Valentino. It wasn't as if they were hiding it from anyone; their relationship was well-known amongst the demons in Hell.

And then there was the matter of Vox's powerlessness as soon as Alastor removed the cover from his mating glands. Why had Alastor done that? Vox didn't want to admit it to himself, but he had been scared. Scared that Alastor was going to forcefully use his omega status against him. Why? Why now? When their friendship ended, he went through sleepless nights waiting for him to expose his hidden gender. It never came up, even when they fought and in any of their meetings afterwards. Why did he suddenly bring it up when he was the one that threw away everything they once were to each other?

The memory of his vulnerable state sent a shiver down Vox's spine. He couldn't believe how easily Alastor had exposed him, how helpless he had felt with his neck unprotected. It was a side of himself that he rarely showed anyone, and certainly not to someone he was now enemies with. He had to think of reinforcing it somehow. He never wanted to feel that way again. It was terrifying. If Alastor could get to it that easily, who knows what would happen if—

His eyes shot towards Valentino across the bed.

He loved Valentino. He was the one that stayed with him through everything despite his many faults. Their relationship had its ups and downs, but that wasn’t uncommon for two people who loved each other, right? The thought of his boyfriend finding out about what had happened made him feel even more exposed and vulnerable. He knew that Valentino would be angry and disappointed in him. He didn’t want to add to the mistakes he made against him in the past. If he found out, whatever fury he’d feel would be justified. Why wouldn’t it be? He let Alastor get too close and was inches away from getting claimed.

Vox couldn't shake the image of Alastor's lips on his neck. The memory sent a jolt of electricity through his body, making him flush with embarrassment. He couldn't believe that Alastor had done that, especially after their fight! It was wrong. It had been ages since he felt these things for him and he needed to keep a clear head and focus on what he had now. He was happy. Happier than he’d ever been! Valentino was the best he was ever going to get and Alastor wouldn’t ruin that.

As he lay in bed, trying to clear his mind, Vox couldn't help but remember Alastor's scent. It was a unique blend of wood and copper that always made him feel both excited and uneasy. The scent was intoxicating, and Vox found himself craving more of it.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory of Alastor kissing his neck and the scent that had accompanied the moment. But it was no use; the image and smell were etched into his mind, refusing to be forgotten. He even tried to cuddle closer to Val to cover his senses with his alpha’s scent. But it didn’t work either. How could a scent he’d smelled for only a short amount of time overpower what he was smelling and covered with now? How did that even make sense?

As the night wore on, Vox found himself growing more and more agitated. He tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any peace or comfort. His thoughts kept drifting back to Alastor. This time it went beyond his scent and the kiss, the feel of him pinning him down, the possessiveness that he emanated as he smelled him, the utter lack of control he had when that was the persona he thrived in, and the feel of his lips so close to his that if he just leaned in a bit closer—

In a fit of frustration, Vox threw off the covers and got out of bed. He decided to take a shower in hopes that that would help clear his mind. As he stood under the spray of water, feeling its warmth wash over him, Vox allowed himself to think about Valentino for a change.

The thought of his boyfriend brought a small smile to his face. He had been so worried when Vox came back hurt. His focus was to keep him out of whatever was happening between him and Alastor. He didn’t want the two of them to cause conflict in an already messy situation he barely had time to grasp. Hopefully, Val would dote on him for a while longer before they inevitably fought again.

Moreso, he hoped Alastor’s presence would stop persistently forcing its way into his mind.

---

Alastor sat in his room, the dim light casting eerie shadows across the walls. He stared blankly at the antique radio on his nightstand, its dial still tuned to an old jazz station. The melody wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within him.

He couldn't ignore the memory of Vox's confused expression, nor the way his heart had raced when he kissed his neck. Alastor knew he should have kept his distance, but something about Vox had always drawn him in. It was a dangerous obsession that threatened to consume him whole. He just wanted to quell some of the excitement he usually had when messing with the omega, why did it lead to a situation he badly wanted to avoid? What was the point of keeping him away for so long when this was how it ended?

He couldn't shake the image of Vox's terrified face, the way his eyes had widened in fear when Alastor had removed his covering. He felt a knot in his stomach, a sense of regret that gnawed at him like a hungry beast.

Alastor's mind raced as he tried to make sense of his actions. It was unlike him to lose control like that, to let his instincts take over. He prided himself on his self-control, on being able to keep his emotions in check. But with Vox, something always seemed to throw him off balance. 

Perhaps it was the adrenaline from the fight, the raw energy that had been coursing through his veins. Or maybe it was the fact that he hadn't been able to smell Vox in decades, a sensory deprivation that had left him feeling disoriented and desperate. Why did it have to be so intoxicating? Like a drug he was addicted to. Why was it so unique and different to every omega he’d met? Why couldn’t he just turn his nose away in disgust like he usually did?

Whatever the reason, Alastor knew he couldn't afford to let his guard down again. He needed to regain control of himself, to remember who he was and what he stood for. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and steady his nerves.

Alastor felt laughter bubbling inside him with the stupidity of his so-called “logic”. He had given so many ridiculous excuses for his behavior but he knew better, he wasn't that dense. If his mother could hear his thoughts, she'd be disciplining him far beyond a pull of an ear. He did what he did to Vox because he wanted to. Regardless of his instincts, he had refined his control well enough to the point that the option to turn away from the opportunity should have been easy. But he let himself go. Let himself get into a position he never wanted to be in.

An apology wouldn't be enough and it's not something he wanted to do either. After all, since he knew an apology would only garner more anger, why not answer a request of his once he chose Alastor? That seemed reasonable enough.

Besides, two of them were at fault. A betrayal was made on both ends and he wasn't going to forgive Vox so easily for letting himself get caged with that putrid excuse for a demon.

Alastor's mind drifted back to the Overlord Meeting, where he had seen Vox and that thing kissing so passionately. The thought of him belonging to someone else, of Vox giving himself to another, filled him with an anger he simply couldn't control. It was a feeling that gnawed at him from the inside out. How much of himself had he given, how deep were those moth’s claws embedded?

Alastor ignored his guilt and regret to focus on his anger instead. What was Vox doing?! Allowing that moth to touch him- to taint him- was unacceptable! Did Vox not realize that them being enemies didn’t make him any less Alastor’s? 

Alastor admitted that some part of this was also probably his fault. He should have made things clearer to the omega. But, he never thought it would come to this.

And what if Vox allowed the bug to actually mate him? The idea of someone else claiming what he considered to be his own was unbearable. It was a possessive anger that burned within him, one that called for action. He wanted to feel relief, knowing that Vox was still unclaimed, but for how long? How long before he lets himself be swallowed whole by Valentino?

But it wasn’t just both of them he needed to be weary of. As annoying as it was to admit, Vox was a forbidden fruit that no one knew was ripe for the picking. That’s why he was so panicked at the possibility of Valentino being mated with him because who wouldn’t at the chance (other than him, of course)? He needed to claim Vox as soon as he could, not only to keep him within arm’s reach but to also to protect him from anyone lesser from using his gender to their benefit.

Alastor knew he had to do something, anything, to regain control of the situation. He couldn't let Valentino keep Vox, not when he had claimed him first. And he refused to give up what was rightfully his. With a deep breath, he made a decision and sent his shadow to watch over Vox. It was clear Alastor hadn't been paying enough attention to his lovely picture box.

Chapter 6: A Shadow's Point of View

Summary:

Previously: Vox's reaction to his fight (and more) with Alastor. Alastor seems remorseful of his actions towards Vox, but at the same time angry at Vox for allowing another to have him. Alastor sent his shadow to spy on Vox.

Notes:

Trigger Warnings: Dubious Consent and Nonconsensual Voyeurism. (Scene marked by XXXXXX)

Shadow was always eager to get orders that gave him an opportunity to go out on his own. Now, Alastor had given him orders that not only let him roam, but he would be able to see Vox and stay near him for a whole day! He just needed to stay focused on him and the moth demon that kept clinging to him. He hated him. He didn’t like him. He wanted them away from each other. But he can’t do anything so he concentrated on tailing them as they went about their day.

The sinners nearby would part as they passed, but they didn’t seem to mind. They talked happily and Valentino would put an arm around Vox’s waist and give him a peck on the cheek even if they were in public. He wished he could do that, but his master wasn’t on good terms with Vox. He didn’t like that. Vox would always talk to him more than his master did. He always acknowledged his presence, even when he wasn't visible. Vox was a good friend. He liked having him as a friend. He didn’t like that he couldn’t show himself to him.

The couple went to different shops and Vox was showered with many gifts given by the moth man. Vox seemed happy, which made him happy. But he didn’t like how they were getting closer. 

This continued as the day went on, and Shadow was getting annoyed. The moth was getting closer to him. One time Vox even pushed his hand away when he grabbed his behind, but he put it back with a squeeze. But Vox let it be the second time so maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Dinner came around and they went to this lavish place that had low lighting. He was able to get under the table, right next to Vox’s legs. He wanted to wrap himself around his limb like he usually did but he stopped himself. He was trying to stay covert, after all. Master wouldn’t like it if he comes back with a half-done job.

He intently listened in.

“Though, I love the attention you’re giving me. Is there a particular reason for this?” he heard Vox ask.

“Why would I need a reason to spoil you, mi amor? I want you to feel loved and cherished as you are. Don’t tell me I can’t show you how much I love you.”

They love each other? The fact made Shadow shudder in annoyance. He didn’t really understand how love worked or how it felt but if it’s a strong feeling, he has strong feelings for Vox. Would that mean he loved Vox?

“I mean, I do appreciate it, Tino. If anything, I wish this happened more often.”

“Oh, so before this, I wasn’t giving enough?”

Shadow saw Vox’s legs stiffen before he closed his knees together.

“No, th-that’s not what I mean.”

Shadow had to swerve as one of the long legs of the moth went up, his foot rubbing up and down Vox’s calf. He wanted to bite it off.

“That’s good. How about this? You can show me just how much you appreciate what I’ve done tonight.”

“Tonight? But I have some projects I need to do. I put off work so I could–”

The foot stopped and banged against the floor instead, making the table shudder. “So it’s my fault I wanted to spend time with you today. You always work and I just wanted to end this date on a good note. You’re ruining it, like you always do.”

“I’m sorry, Val. I promise to—”

“Lies, as usual. Vox, when can you adjust for me? I always put our plans on hold and I keep adapting to your schedule. Why can’t I just get a whole day to have you for myself? It’s not like the company’s gonna go down with you away for one day.”

“I…alright,” Vox responded, his feet shuffling lightly.

Shadow didn’t understand. Why was Vox agreeing? It didn’t seem fair. But, he said yes so maybe it was fine? He’ll trust Vox for now.

Eventually, they continued the conversation casually before Shadow followed them up to their suite. As soon as he slipped in the room, Vox was pinned on the couch, gripping Valentino’s sides. Shadow wanted to intervene somehow but now they were kissing? He paused, not sure how to go from here. Aggression was something he was familiar with, but intimate actions like these were not something he was exposed to. He’d never seen his master do them after all.

Staying in the corner, he decided to just watch for now.

XXXXXX

Valentino undressed Vox with a gentle touch, revealing the demon's toned body. He spread Vox's legs wide apart, exposing his most intimate parts to the cool air. Shadow watched from the corner. He had never seen anything like this before, and it was both fascinating and terrifying at the same time.

Two of the moth’s arms gripped Vox’s hips and the other two held his thighs open as he pushed inside the much smaller demon. Shadow heard Vox let out a gasp as his back arched off the couch. Vox’s legs were pulled over Valentino’s shoulders and he let out soft moans as the moth moved on top of him.

But something seemed odd about the interaction. Shadow wasn’t sure how Vox was supposed to look right now, but uninterested and slightly pained was probably wrong. 

Valentino seemed oblivious to Vox's lack of enthusiasm, however, continuing to thrust into him relentlessly. Shadow saw as Vox's legs stiffened and his fingers dug into the couch.

As Valentino continued, Vox's body relaxed a bit. Shadow watched in confusion as Vox's expression changed from one of discomfort to something more neutral. Was this what it was supposed to look like?

Valentino leaned down and kissed Vox's neck and chest, nipping and leaving marks, as his hands explored Vox’s body. Vox let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. Shadow could tell that Valentino was whispering to Vox, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying, only that it made Vox’s screen turn red.

Shadow watched in confusion as suddenly Vox let out a cry and went rigid for a moment before falling limp. Was he injured? Valentino didn’t pause in his movements, only leaning down to kiss the TV.

Vox let out a soft groan as Valentino continued. Shadow could see that he was starting to push back into the moth, but it was clear that he was still not fully engaged in the act.

Eventually, Vox cried out again, but this time Valentino let out a groan with him. Vox's body went limp in Valentino's arms as he caught his breath, his screen flickering with exhaustion. Shadow watched as Valentino gently stroked Vox's casing, whispering soothing words into his microphone.

As they lay there, panting and sweaty, Shadow couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Something about this interaction felt off, like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. The reason eluded him, however.

Valentino pulled out of Vox, causing the demon to let out a soft sigh. "That wasn't so bad, now was it, cariño? You clearly enjoyed yourself,"  he asserted. “So, how about you forgo the fuss next time, hmm?”

XXXXXX

Notes:

Thank you all so much for reading! I'm so happy that people are enjoying my story!

Also, I tried to do little "Previously On" summaries. I'm not the best at summarizing, but I hope it's helpful. What do you all think about them?

Chapter 7: Shadowing Depravity

Summary:

Previously: Shadow spied on Vox and witnessed aspects of his and Val's relationship.

Notes:

TW: Rape (Angel/Valentino) and Non-Consensual Voyeurism.
Rape scene starts and ends at XXXXXX.

Shadow waited in the dark corners of the room throughout the night, noticing how Vox lay awake, staring at the ceiling as Valentino slept peacefully beside him. Silently, Vox trembled before he bit his lip, eyes glazing over as tears fell. He stayed like that for a while before eventually closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, the wetness drying as the hours passed. Shadow wondered if he was hurt, wasn’t the act supposed to be pleasurable in some way? Did he get injured? Why had the outcome been different between the two parties involved?

On the first day of his spying, he had learned that Vox was pampered before submission was expected afterward. That usually would ring an alarm but Vox was so willing to give into the moth man’s demands that maybe it was a reward? Were intimate relationships supposed to be this way? There were parallels to his relationship with his master that he could understand. Maybe the dynamic was what was expected between an alpha and omega. Was his master going to treat Vox the same way once he acquired him? He grimaced. That was not a thought he wanted to mull over.

He contemplated the information he had before the daylight appeared through the window. He finally looked back and focused on Vox getting up stiffly and trudging to the shower. After a few minutes he came out and put on his clothes before Valentino started stirring. 

“Where are you going, mi amor?” he asked, stretching his limbs and wings before turning toward Vox, “Can’t you stay a bit longer?”

“I can’t Val. I have a meeting to get to,” Vox answered, voice devoid of emotion, “I’ll be pre-occupied most of the day and well into the evening so you don’t need to wait for me. You can even stay in the studio for the night if you’d like.”

“Why would I? Are you taking anyone home to lay down next to you instead? Like that stupid deer? Or maybe you have some bitches on the side that would happily take my place plowing you.” 

Shadow saw Vox’s eyes turn red and clench his fists before he turned, completely changing his demeanor and walking up to Valentino with a wide grin. “I would never, baby,” he cooed, as if appeasing an infant, “I wouldn’t want anyone else but you. How could I?”

Valentino smirked, bringing Vox in for another deep kiss, pulling him by his lapels. Vox gripped his arms and he could see how his face turned to one of discomfort as Valentino’s tongue started to explore his mouth. Shadow had the urge to look away.

Eventually, Valentino pulled back, hand gripping the side of his screen, the pressure making Vox flinch. “Remember, you’re my omega. Regardless of how many fucking flies are swarming around you, you better keep that in mind. You know my temper, don’t you?”

“Yes, Valentino.” Vox answered, his hands on his chest as if readying to push him away.

“No, no. You’re special, so you say yes in the way I said you should.”

Vox flinched, closing his eyes before saying in a soft voice, “Yes, alpha.”

“Good,” Valentino said, kissing Vox’s forehead before letting him go, “Now go on, Voxxy. I have some shoots I have to get to today. My body’s aching so can you send me some cash to go to a spa after work? You know. That fancy place near my studio.”

Vox turned away, a grimace on his face as soon as he did before he took his phone and typed. A small ding came from another phone across the room before Valentino reached for it, leaning down to almost an inch from the screen. “C’mon baby. You know I need more than that. Are you trying to hold off on me?” Vox sighed, typing more on his phone before another ding resounded. Valentino saw the amount and smiled. “Good omega.”

“I need to go,” Vox said, face stoic, tucking his phone in his coat and walking out the door.

“Bye baby!” Valentino shouted, smiling before he turned away, typing on his phone.

When Vox left, Shadow wasn’t sure if he should follow. If his day truly would be full if meeting and mundane tasks, maybe it’s best if he—

Valentino stood up, catching his attention. He did as Vox did, showering as he sang and dressed. Curiosity got the better of him and eventually, he decided he’d follow him for now.

A few hours in and Shadow wished he had gone with Vox instead. He followed the moth to the studio, watching as he berated numerous of his employees and threw various breakable equipment. In hindsight, he didn’t mind the violence. He would even smirk when the things thrown never landed on whomever it was meant for. The sinners seemed to know this, staying still when he did. It was laughable how utterly blind the man was. He was oblivious to the glares and rude gestures thrown when his back was turned, some even to his face.

But what was incredibly painful to watch was the abysmal shows he wrote himself. He understood what porn was, though he would only see it in passing or hear it from other residents of the hotel. Whatever this was, it was not in any way pleasurable to any of his senses. He now fully understood why his master stayed well away from it.

Shadow’s eyes widened when he saw the tall spider fellow walk in the room. He thought the sinner looked familiar and remembered that he lived at the same place his master was currently staying. Angel was his name if he recalled correctly. He walked in and immediately undressed, taking off what little clothing he had on, walking to the bed and being handed a script. He furrowed his brows and rolled his eyes as he read before doing what the other sinners did prior.

Interesting, but not interesting enough. He watched another shoot finish before he started phasing in the shadows, opting to just go to Vox at this point. Before that, he paused when he saw Valentino call Angel into a room, a grin on his face. Angel flinched before doing as he was told. 

XXXXXX

Shadow phased between the gap under the door before he was met with Valentino holding down Angel the same way he did Vox the night before. They were kissing but this was much rougher. His first set of hands were on Angel’s neck and the others ran though his body, combing through the fur and gripping his hips.

It was clear how abrasive Valentino was handling Angel. The moth’s hands were nothing but cruel, leaving bruises and scratches in their wake as he played with the other’s body. He could see terror in the spider's eyes, the way his limbs shook and his breathing grew ragged. 

Shadow felt a wave of disgust wash over him. He had never felt anything like it before, a deep-seated loathing that seemed to radiate from his very core. It was as if he could feel the sinner's pain and fear, and it was tearing him apart inside.

He remembered some devices that were used to record and wondered if any were present in the room. He didn't think Vox would stand for this. Wouldn’t this kind of behavior be reported to him somehow? Looking around, the sounds of grunts and whimpers echoing louder as he did, he noticed a pair of the devices in opposite corners of the room. 

The problem was, they were both covered by clothing that was haphazardly draped over their lenses. 

Shadow had to stop himself from growling. He wanted to pull the offending fabric away but that would compromise him. As much as he wanted to involve himself and stop this barbaric display, he had no choice but to observe. 

He had never seen anyone be treated in such a cruel way before, not even by Alastor. 

As he watched, Valentino's face twisted into a sneer as he gripped Angel's neck tighter. The spider sinner struggled to breathe, his eyes wide with fear as tears streamed down his face. And yet, Angel remained limp in the moth’s grasp. Not attempting to fight back. Not even protesting.

Shadow watched in horror as Valentino moved with cruel precision, his fingers digging into Angel's flesh as he forced himself upon the spider sinner. The sound of their bodies slapping together filled the room, a harsh and brutal noise that made Shadow's skin crawl.

Shadow tried to look away, but he couldn't ignore the sounds of Valentino's moans and Angel's gasps of pain filling the room. 

Valentino leaned in close to Angel's ear, his voice low and menacing. "Tell me how much you like it," he growled, his breath hot against the spider demon's skin. "Tell me you want more."

Angel shook his head violently, tears streaming down his face. "Please... stop..." he whimpered, his voice hoarse and rough.

Valentino sneered, slapping him hard across the face. "Try again, baby-cakes," he growled, grabbing a handful of Angel's fur and pulling him closer. "Tell me you like it."

Angel gave a shaky smile. “I like it, Daddy~” he loudly moaned.

Shadow was confused. The spider enjoyed this? Then why did he look to be in so much pain? Hadn’t he just asked for the moth to stop? Was it some sort of game? 

The noises had changed. Angel was now making loud moaning noises that sounded… pleasurable? So, he did like it then. Shadow chanced to look back at the two of them. Angel’s face was still contorted in pain despite the smile he had slapped on. Why?

Was he pretending to like it? 

Oh. He was pretending. That made more sense. Shadow wanted to kill Valentino.

XXXXXX

---

Wanting some kind of palate cleanser from that horrible display, Shadow appeared where the last of the Vees were. Her name was Velvette and from what he remembered from Rosie’s conversation with his master, she was Vox’s pup. It would be interesting to see what she was like. He watched as she switched models expertly, making outfits appear on them and shouting instructions and orders even as she kept her head down most of the time, eyes glued to her phone’s screen and her thumbs tapping against it. Shadow wondered how she could see where she was going.

“Fucking Hell,” she cursed, putting the device against her ear, her hand on her hip, finger tapping impatiently, after a moment she shouted, “What the Hell, Vox? What do you mean my show was moved a week earlier? Do you know how fucking—”

She paused. “Oh. Well, I’m still upset about it.”

Her grimace softened and turned to a grin. “Anything? With your card?”

Velvette squealed. “Okay, love you! Kisses!”

She put down her phone, looking happier as she joked, “There certainly are benefits to having a rich Overlord wrapped around my finger!” ”

The model she was facing giggled, “Did he give you permission to use his card?”

“Bitch, I don’t need permission. I always have access to his card, but now that I have his go ahead, I have no fucking limits!” she said, cackling.

“Ain’t that nice?” the model said, smirking, “He’s basically whipped, then.”

“You think so?” Velvette asked.

“Oh, for—”

Shadow didn’t even see the scissors in Velvette’s hand before it slashed through the model’s neck. Blood burst out and covered her, which didn’t seem to faze her as the model’s body stumbled to the ground, laying lifeless.

“No one fucking talks about Vox that way but me,” she growled, kicking the corpse and looking up at her terrified employees, “Somebody clean this shit up, I need a bath.”

Velvette walked away as the others cleaned and mopped what was left of the model.

Shadow smiled, content. She seemed like a good pup.

Notes:

Sorry if the Velvette part gave you some emotional whiplash. I wanted to include her, but didn't have enough ideas to make it its own chapter.

Chapter 8: Report

Summary:

Previously: Shadow spied on the Vees for Alastor. In doing so he witnessed Vox and Valentino's unhealthy relationship and saw Valentino rape Angel.

Alastor's gaze lingered on the surface of his antique microphone, the device humming softly in his hand. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more turbulent than the last. His shadow's return was imminent, and with it, the revelations of what it had witnessed.

Finally, the shadowy figure materialized before him, its form shimmering in the dim light. Alastor's eyes narrowed as he awaited the report, his heart pounding in his chest. "Well?" he prompted, his voice a smooth, melodic drawl.

His shadow's eyes flickered, a hint of unease in its expression. "I saw Vox and Valentino... together," it said, its voice barely above a whisper. "They were... intimate."

Alastor's heart pounded in his chest, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within him. "Intimate?" he repeated, his voice barely above a growl.

The shadow nodded. "Yes, Master. They were engaged in… intercourse."

Alastor clenched his fist around his microphone. “And what is their relationship like, shadow? How does Vox act around the moth?” He spit out the last word like a curse.

Alastor's eyes narrowed as his shadow recounted the events unfolding between Vox and Valentino. The shadow had painted a vivid picture of the omega's submission, his body yielding to Valentino's demands with an air of reluctance. Alastor's heart ached, a bitter taste filling his mouth.

Vox had been submissive to Valentino. Yes, omegas were often submissive to their alpha, but something about the way Shadow described it made Alastor not only angry, but concerned. Vox may be an omega, but he wasn’t one to let another just push him around. Vox was usually so confident and self-assured, always in control of his emotions and his actions.  He was strong. It was part of the reason Alastor fell in– …became friends with him in the first place. But now, Shadow was reporting that Vox seemed to be at Valentino's mercy.

Valentino, apparently, had appeared to be nice to Vox, at least according to his shadow's account. Taking him to dinner and whatnot. Still, Alastor’s jealousy was overshadowed by his unease.

And as his shadow continued to describe the scene, Alastor's unease felt more and more justified. Vox seemed unhappy, though the shadow didn't know why. Alastor's mind raced, trying to piece together what his shadow was missing.

“Explain what made you think Vox was unhappy,” he commanded. 

“When they had sex-” Alastor grit his teeth at the thought. “-Vox seemed distant. He was completely passive and almost lifeless. As though he wasn’t really present in the situation,” the shadow explained. “Valentino was certain that he enjoyed himself however, so I must have missed something.”

Alastor's heart beat faster as he listened to Shadow's description of Vox's behavior during his encounter with Valentino. Vox being passive? He simply couldn't picture such a thing. Something was wrong and Alastor was willing to bet that something had four arms, started with "V," and ended in "O." Was Valentino hurting Vox? Using him?

Alastor's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the information his shadow had provided. It was clear that something was amiss between Vox and Valentino, but what exactly was happening? Valentino was a disgusting pervert that would hurt others without thought, Alastor knew, but Vox was stronger than the moth. He shouldn't be in any true danger, right?

On the other hand, Alastor knew Vox could be naive at times. Despite everything he's accomplished, despite how strong he had become, he could be desperate, needy, for attention. His clingy-ness had been endearing to Alastor when they had been friends, but it had also been dangerous. Now it was likely that Vox's desire for affection had made him easily manipulated by Valentino.

Alastor felt a surge of anger at the thought of Valentino taking advantage of Vox like this. It was one thing for the TV to be naive, but quite another for someone like Valentino to exploit his vulnerabilities. He couldn't let this continue.

Alastor's instincts kicked in, and he felt a surge of protectiveness towards Vox. He wanted to go to Vox and make everything right, to make sure that he was safe and happy.  He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. He was Alastor, the Radio Demon. He couldn't let a petty thing like feelings cloud his judgment.

"And what about the insect?" Alastor asked. "Did you notice anything about his behavior?"

The shadow hesitated for a moment before answering. "Valentino seemed... proprietorial. He was upset when Vox went to business meetings with other alphas."

Alastor’s smile tightened as he listened to the shadow's description of Valentino's behavior. The TV demon seemed to be under the moth's control, and that was a dangerous situation. Alastor knew he had to do something to help his dear omega. This couldn’t continue.

“And,” his shadow actually managed to look uncomfortable as it continued, “there was something he did while Vox wasn’t there.”

“Well, what was it?”

“Valentino didn’t just have sex with Vox, but also with Angel Dust. I think Valentino was hurting him.” His shadow stared at the ground as he told his master what had happened between the two sinners.

Alastor froze. That worthless fucking bug! I’m going to hunt him down and throw him through a woodchipper! His thoughts ran wild, all calling for the death of Valentino. Not only had the disgusting moth used Vox like a plaything, he had then cheated on Vox by raping someone! Alastor had killed for a lot less both in Hell and while alive. The thought of the pimp’s actions made Alastor's blood boil with rage.

“Is there anything else, shadow?” Alastor barely managed to get the question out through his rage.

“Nothing more of note, master.” The shadow paused for a second. “Overall, while he was very cruel to the Angel Dust demon, Valentino does not seem too terrible a master towards Vox,” it concluded.

Alastor’s eyes darkened, static peaking in his ear before his tentacles sprung toward a nearby couch, gripping it tight until it splintered, pulling it back with the intention of shattering it against the opposite wall. He breathed heavily, closing his eyes as the furniture lay suspended in the air, the sound of the wood creaking under pressure and small pieces falling down to the floor below.

With grit teeth, he said, “Never address that egotistical, peacock-feathered sleazeball, whose grotesque arrogance and pathetic attempts at dominance make him a laughably transparent blight on the already tarnished reputation of Hell as Vox’s master. Vox is leagues above him. That’s why it truly boggles my mind as to why Podcast lets him treat him like garbage.”

Alastor smirked when the Shadow started trembling in anger, the realization dawning on him.

“That’s right,” Alastor said, staring at the increasing size of his silhouette as its fangs started to lengthen, “Whatever Valentino did was as Vox’s supposed equal. He was mistreating him as his lover and abusing him for good measure.”

It took some effort but he immediately pulled his shadow’s leash as he tried to rabidly go out and tear the moth limb from limb. That won’t do. Unfortunately, the timing isn't right. It would only align properly if he could get Vox to come to him. Once he was secure by his side, he would make the insect writhe in pain, choking on his own blood, and begging for his second death.

The problem was, this was not his forte. He was at a loss as to what to do and how to bridge the gap. Only one person came to mind that had the expertise in interpersonal communication and he needed her input as soon as possible.

Alastor looked down, the shadow seething silently, its claws scratching the floor lightly in an effort to calm itself. He understood the rage and leaned down to address his pet. “I need you to go to Vox again. Get a hold of yourself and make sure you stop any urges to intervene before the right time. Watch them. If Valentino does anything to Vox similar to that of his actions toward Angel, I want you to fetch me immediately. Do you understand?”

He tugged the leash in a warning before the shadow nodded. Alastor let his hold loosen and his pet disappeared, determined to do his bidding.

Now, he had a rather complicated conversation ahead of him.

Notes:

Sorry once again for the late post. I honestly forgot that I hadn’t posted this yet.

Chapter 9: Asking Advice

Summary:

Previously: Alastor found out what has been going on with Vox and Valentino from his shadow.

Rosie always knew more than she let on. She thrived in information, weaving it like a web to fit her fancy, taking and devouring bits of information and figuring out the truth from the scraps she could garner. That was her specialty. Only one Overlord could go toe to toe with her in regards to this and it was the Media Overlord himself—Vox.

To many sinners, Vox was the embodiment of an open book. One of the most famous faces in hell, a character that lived in the spotlight and fell to Hell destined to live amongst the upper echelons of the hierarchy. But much less knew that he was actually one of the biggest enigmas Hell had. Whatever information out there was heavily doctored, and what truth he had allowed to appear in public had his good points highlighted and the bad ones almost non-existent, fading in the background.

It was for this reason that Rosie held whatever information he had on him close to her heart, hidden until she had need for it.

She just didn’t expect to require it so soon.

“Rosie, I need your advice.”

Alastor sat across him, a picture of calmness carefully hiding the faint twitch of his eye, the tight grip on his cane, and the subtly bob of his knee underneath the table. Rosie took a casual sip of her tea, eyeing him with a tilt of her head. “Yes, Alastor?” she asked.

"Unfortunately, I've neglected to keep something of mine within my grasp. I'd like to understand how I can acquire them back so that they willingly surrender."

"Hm," Rosie hummed, pretending to contemplate before saying, "Alastor, you and Vox have not been on good terms for a while now. You let a wound fester and now it's on the verge of being amputated permanently."

Rosie sighed at the surprised look on Alastor's face and shook her head. "Vox is with someone else, and though I dislike that particular sinner, I don't understand why you expect him to find his way back into your arms when, quite frankly, you were the one that severed the friendship."

"It was a needed severance. We both knew we could thrive more away from each other. More so than we would have if we kept this dangerously codependent relationship."

"I understand that," Rosie said, "And I'm not saying I don't agree with it. But what I am saying is that, regardless of how justified your reason was, he didn't want to lose you and you took that choice away."

"Rosie, I want him beside me where he belongs. I can't lose him." A bit of Alastor's mask fell away and she could see the look of desperation in his eyes before he put the mask back in place. "I need your help to make him understand where he should be."

Rosie always liked being the third party watching the show from afar. In situations like these, she leaned more towards gentle pushing and vague goading of her subjects to get them where they need to be. Unfortunately, when two parties in opposing sides are powerful Overlords who are extremely prideful and bullheaded, especially the one sitting across from her, a heavier hand was needed.

Alastor looked down as she pondered before she finally said, “Do you know that one of things I hate dealing with the most is also one of the most frequent problems that arises with relationships that has the simplest solution?”

Rosie set down her empty cup, tapping the rim before an employee of hers quickly put a fresh one in front of her. “Miscommunication.”

Alastor looked confused, repeating the word as if testing how it rolled off his tongue.

“Yes. Alastor, you’re one to act regardless of how you move the pieces across the board. You are cunning, calculating, and lethal when it comes to planning and execution. But, amusingly, for a radio host with an impressive vocabulary, you fail to be blunt and to the point when it comes to making people understand your intentions. You left Vox, thinking it would be best for him to thrive. You were right and I’m sure he inevitably found that out as well. But he’s still dead set on the idea that you left him because you were bored. Why do I know this? Because it took one conversation with him to figure out how your opinion of him was a focal source of his validation. It also doesn’t take an intimate relationship with you to know how fickle you can be so I would understand why that would be his conclusion. Now, you want to take him back now that he’s achieved what you wanted him to achieve. You have to understand how hard this will be.”

Alastor’s ears started twitching before it pulled back to press against the back of his head. He was agitated. He wanted to retort but he knew it would be futile to debate with her when all she did was state the truth. Rosie had the intention to help but she was trying to go through a route that would be able to connect them without unnecessary dilly-dallying. They’ve wasted enough time already.

“I may have been vague about my intentions but I am open to remedying my faults with your guidance,” Alastor said, relaxing his posture and softening his expression. Rosie could see he was trying his best not to retort in order to get what he wanted from her. To most people, that would be considered rude but their friendship has stood by worse breaks in decorum.

“If you plan to restore your relationship, you need to talk to him expecting how angry he’ll be. He will lash out, understandably so, demand answers to questions you might need to prepare for. Don’t expect him to forgive you but at least let him force out his initial anger without retaliation. Let him hurt you, maybe a little, but do not fight back. If you fight back you’ll just go back to the rhythm both of you are accustomed to and that will not lead to any progress.”

Rosie watched, smirking when she saw Alastor get increasingly uncomfortable. Contrary to what most sinners think, the Radio Demon did have a weakness— vulnerability.

“You can’t expect me to just take whatever damage he deals toward me. Not that the gap is minimal but Vox does have the tendency to bite back violently when provoked,” Alastor said in exasperation.

“You’re resilient are you? Slippery and tactical. All you need to do is switch to the defensive. I’m not asking you to leave yourself open. I’m asking you to let him see that your intent is not to start an altercation but to have a civil conversation.”

“But still,” Alastor protested, “We don’t know if Vox will even see reason.”

“I thought you knew him best?” Rosie teased, raising a brow, “It will take a while but he will eventually react to your lack of attacks. No respectable Overlord fights a battle with a worthy adversary when there’s no pushback. Aren’t we all driven by pride, after all? No one wants a shallow victory.”

Rosie relished the image of Alastor changing his expressions, almost seeing the thoughts race through his mind as he weighed her advice. He was one of her precious friends after all, something akin to a trophy due to how hard it was to get in his inner circle. Hopefully, when he remedies his relationship with Vox, she could finally add him back to her collection.

Alastor stood up, nodding toward her, taking her hand and kissing it. “It seems I have much to do, especially now that I have your enlightening words to consider. You are truly a gem, Rosie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Aren’t I?” she replied cheekily, winking at him before he disappeared.

Chapter 10: Voxxy

Summary:

Previously: After using his shadow to spy on Vox and finding out what's been going on, and then sending it to spy on Vox once again, Alastor sought out Rosie for advice.

Notes:

TW: Attempted Rape.

Valentino loved being an Alpha. He couldn't imagine himself being defined as anything else. Being a Beta was awfully dull, you couldn’t even take advantage of what made the second genders so fun in the first place. Alternatively, he'd just off himself if he was an Omega. He could only scoff at the stupid, ridiculous thought. Being an Omega meant that you were born to be an underdog. Born to be the weakest and subservient to everyone else.

That's what his father had told him, what he showed him as he disciplined his many wives when he was still alive. It's not like they didn't love it. Just as much as Alphas were made to dominate, Omegas had this huge hard on towards submitting.

Now, Vox. His beautiful, perfect, pliable little Omega. He was unique. A powerful being that managed to cross over his supposed limits. The first hidden Omega Overlord and Val had given him the opportunity to tie him down. Emotionally of course, what he didn't know about Val and his whores couldn’t hurt him.

Vox was his primary Omega. Valuable, rich, strong, and so fucking sexy. Sure, he just needed a bit of pruning here and there but it's nothing a bit of tough love can fix. Vox should be grateful he wasn't as heavy-handed as his father. He was sure the bastard was somewhere down here with how many wives he'd attempted to kill.

Right now, he was in a stage where he was showering Vox with attention, making him understand how much he needed him and the love and affection he could offer. Who else could give him what he craves for, after all?

An image of Alastor came to mind and his hand wrapped around a nearby vase, throwing it randomly and hearing a scream as it broke. He sighed. Usually the sound would amuse him or at least give him some kind of relief from his frustration, but not right now. Not even the recent fuck sesh he had with Angel truly alleviated his annoyance, and that was rough too.

No, he needed something more. A more tantalizing memory came to mind that made him shiver in anticipation. It was Vox, crying and whimpering beneath him, sobbing as he pounded himself against his tight, slick-covered hole.

He groaned as he stood up. He had waited long enough. He'd been gracious to give him time to finish whatever work he said had piled up. He even bit his tongue knowing that Vox was overreacting again. How much work can accumulate with what little time they spent together? Vox was just slacking off and he wouldn't admit it.

As he stalked toward the elevators, he wondered how much easier things would be if he could just claim him. That way, all of Hell would know he belonged to Val. Curse his delicious, mechanical body. He found solace with the fact that at least no one else could claim him.

He tapped his foot impatiently as the elevator went up to the highest room. He stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, ready to pin his Omega down.

He walked through the double doors of his boyfriend's office.

---

Vox did everything he could to come out on top. He clawed, he tore, he climbed, and killed just so his limits could be dismantled and destroyed. When you're an Omega, you either let yourself be consumed by your instincts or find a way to overcome them.

Unfortunately for him, regardless of his tenacity, fate decided to be brutally unfair to him. It was one thing to be born an Omega on Earth, but another to represent Hell as one despite everything he did to prove he wasn't.

But that was his reality and there was no use moping about it. He just went back to the way he coped when he was alive. He kept it hidden, unknown to many, revealed to few.

Now, decades after he fell, he was able to build a good life for him in eternal damnation, thriving regardless of the obstacles in his way—the heartbreak he endured.

Vox looked at the numbers fluctuating before him, streams of data presented in various screens that encompassed the majority of one of the four walls in the room. He was able to accumulate so much in so little time.

The majority of souls were at his feet, and that includes Alphas and Betas.

Then why?

Why did he feel so weak?

Why did he feel like, despite everything he did, he was still a victim of his primal instinct, still so far beneath and barely scratching the surface of control?

Valentino and Alastor.

Two Alphas who still had their claws embedded so deep within him that he couldn't see any possibility of escaping either.

His thoughts started to spiral and he tried to focus on drowning in his work again but it was still hard not to ponder the cycle he'd put himself in.

Alastor appeared, Vox fell, and Alastor left.

Valentino appeared, Vox fell, and Valentino stayed.

And Valentino had been showering Vox with affection ever since the Overlord Meeting. Always by his side, constantly pampering him with compliments and doting touches. Constantly demanding to know where he was and what he was doing when he wasn’t with the moth himself. And recently, it seemed that Val was always right there. Honestly, Vox found himself growing increasingly resentful of the constant attention. He wanted to be able to breathe, to have some space of his own, but Valentino seemed determined to keep him close at all times. And yet, there was a part of Vox that craved it. He has always loved being the center of attention, and with Valentino, he feels that adoration. It made Vox feel warm and loved, but also smothered and trapped.  

As Vox sat in his office, staring blankly at his screens, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with him. Why couldn't he just be happy with the love and affection Valentino was showering upon him? Why did he feel so restless and dissatisfied? 

Deep down Vox knew that his relationship with Valentino wasn’t the healthiest. That Val didn’t always treat him the best.  Why did he continue allowing this endless torture of not knowing whether Valentino was going to caress his cheek or land a blow? Why was he willing to keep endless extra units of his head nearby for the convenience of blindly changing his broken one alone? Why was he willing to always expect the extremes of passion and pain, just to feel the small semblance of love that Valentino must feel for him?

Well, because… what else could he do?

If he lost Val, who would—

Alastor.

Vox shook his head. It's a trick. A ploy. A trap. It couldn't be so simple. After all these years? How could the deer just suddenly come back and expect Vox to fall at his feet and beg for his attention again? Whatever it was, it was too risky of an opportunity to take. Maybe it was a scheme to get his soul? To get everything Vox worked hard for and shit on it like he shit on his feelings.

Yeah.

He was fine with Valentino.

Even if Val had mood swings and would occasionally get handsy and aggressive, it was familiar. Not like Alastor. Unpredictable and fickle Alastor.

Vox shook his head again, rubbing his forehead and squinting at the screens to see what he was doing prior to getting lost in his thoughts. He had to focus. There was so much to do and—

The double doors to his office opened and Vox felt his heartbeat quicken when he heard the sound of a familiar voice. “Oh Voxxy~ You haven't been giving me as much attention as you should,” Valentino said, draping himself lecherously against the desk. Vox flinched when he heard the sound of his mug breaking, likely pushed off the edge by Valentino's body.

He didn't turn, however, keeping his gaze on the screens in front of him. So far, Val's voice wasn't rising. He seemed to just be persuading him lazily. Sometimes, Val bothers him with the intent to just whine before getting bored and going back to the studio. He desperately hoped this was one of those times.

If Vox played his cards right, Val would even sleep somewhere else, giving him much needed space and rest. 

"Vox!" Valentino abruptly shouted, slamming his hand down on Vox’s desk. "Look at me!"

Vox looked away from his screens, startled by Valentino's outburst. He felt a spell of anxiety as he took in the look of anger on his lover's face. "Val," he said softly, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing. "What is it? What do you need?"

Valentino glared at Vox for a moment longer before grabbing him by the shoulders. "You've been avoiding me," he growled, shaking Vox roughly. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but this isn't fair.”

Vox tried to pull away from Valentino's grip, but the moth demon held him tightly. "I just needed some time to catch up on my work," he said defensively. "I promise I haven't been avoiding you on purpose."

But Valentino didn't seem convinced. He continued to hold onto Vox tightly as he ranted about how much he missed him and how much it hurt when Vox ignored him for extended periods of time. 

"I’m sorry, okay?” Vox pleaded. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

Valentino’s grin would have given Vox emotional whiplash if he wasn’t so used to it by now. “You can make it up to me right now, baby. All I need is you~”  He gave a small pout as he continued, “I’ve had such a rough day at work and need my gorgeous boyfriend to comfort me.”

"Val, I really can't right now. I need to finish this project. Can't you see how important it is that I get this done?" Vox pleaded, trying to keep his voice calm and reasonable.

“Oh come on baby~ We can be quick about it…” He started feeling Vox up, attempting to change his mind. 

"Val, I said no," Vox repeated firmly, trying his best to maintain his focus on the task at hand. "I'm not in the mood and I'm busy. Later, okay?"

However, Valentino seemed intent on getting what he wanted and continued to touch Vox, ignoring his refusal. As the minutes passed, Vox's irritation grew alongside his frustration. He wanted to finish what he was working on, but Valentino's advances were making it nearly impossible to concentrate.

Finally, Valentino had had enough of Vox's rejection. " Voxxy , I want you now ," he demanded, his voice dripping with anger.

Vox attempted to stand his ground. “Val, I told you– ǺĄǤĦ! ” Vox cut off into a shout as Val ripped out the cords plugged into his head, cutting off his connection to the devices he was working on. "VAL–"

Before Vox could finish his sentence, Valentino grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall. "Voxxyyy~" he growled, his eyes blazing with something dangerous.  

Vox tried to mask his fear of the situation from his screen. Not again. Please not again, he thought. “Val… Look I– I just need to finish up a few things and then–” Val shoved him harder into the wall. “–then I’m all yours, okay? Promise. I’ll–”

Val narrowed his eyes and reached for Vox’s pants.

"Wait!" Vox tried to dart past the taller demon, but Val's grip was too strong. Instead, Valentino reached for Vox's belt and pulled it loose. Vox frantically tried to struggle against Valentino's grasp, kicking out in a futile attempt to dislodge the taller demon's hold. "Val, stop!"

Vox winced as Valentino slammed his fist into his screen, a sharp pain shooting through his skull as his small cracks spread along the glass. His two lower hands squeezed Vox's waist, holding him firmly against the wall.

“Don’t try and fight me, Voxxy~” Valentino said, his voice a dangerous growl.

Vox's eyes flicked to his screens, his mind racing as he searched for a way to escape. But before he could even contemplate using his screens to flee, Valentino noticed where his gaze was turned and cruelly snapped one of his delicate antennae. 

“ĄȂ₳҉Ǡ҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉ĄḪĤ!” The sudden pain caused Vox to scream out, his concentration broken as he struggled to suppress his pain. He knew that Val would not hesitate to cause him more harm if he showed any sign of weakness, so he grit his teeth and forced himself to remain still. Despite his best efforts, however, he couldn't help but feel a wave of fear wash over him as he realized just how vulnerable he was in this situation. 

Vox could feel the anger radiating off of Valentino as he yelled, "What did I just say!?" Valentino's grip on his waist tightened. He then gave another whiplash-inducing smile. "You know I wouldn't have to hurt you if you would just behave for once, cariño~" Val purred in a menacing tone.

Valentino carried Vox through the hallway, Vox’s feet barely touching the ground as they headed towards his own room. Vox's body went limp in Val's grasp, a sign of both fear and submission. He knew that Valentino was capable of causing him severe pain, and he didn't want to provoke him any further. All he could do was hope that whatever punishment Val had in store for him this time wouldn't be too brutal. Just get through this. You can finish your work later, his thoughts told him.

Valentino pushed Vox onto his bed with a rough shove, his heart racing as he tried to process everything that was happening. Vox could feel a mix of anxiety and apprehension welling up inside him. He knew that Val's temper was unpredictable, and he had no idea what the moth might do to him next.

"Now, do I need to tie you up? Or are you going to behave?" Valentino demanded, his voice low and menacing.

Vox swallowed hard, his glitching voice nearly inaudible as he replied, "I-I'll beha-ave."

Valentino raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing across his lips. "Done being such a brat, then?"

Vox kept his eyes averted, not wanting to meet the moth's gaze. He nodded slightly. "...y-yes."

"Yes, who?" Valentino insisted, his tone growing more demanding.

"Yes, Val," Vox replied, still avoiding Valentino’s gaze.

Val harshly struck Vox’s thigh, making him yelp. “Uh-uh~ Wrong answer.”

“Yes, alpha ,” Vox forced out, his voice barely above a whisper. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, a blush creeping up his screen. He hated being reduced to this, but he knew that challenging Val would only lead to more pain.

“ Good omega~ That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Vox's stomach churned as he felt Val's hands slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Every touch sent shivers down his spine, a mix of dread and arousal that left him feeling completely helpless. And yet, he couldn't help but respond to the moth's dominance, his body betraying him in ways he couldn't control. He knew that Val could sense his arousal, and he could feel the slick beginning to flow from his body in anticipation of what was to come.

"You're so pretty, Voxxy," Val murmured, his voice thick with desire. 

Vox felt Valentino’s hands on him, his clothes slowly getting peeled off. Some of the glass shards were falling on the sheet from his face but he didn't care. He tried to close his eyes and imagine a world where he was just with Vark, playing with him on the beach as Velvette sunbathed on the shore. 

Val lowered his head to claim Vox's lips in a searing kiss, and Vox felt a wave of pure ecstasy wash over him, his body responding to the moth's natural aphrodisiac. His consciousness started to drift away as he felt hands grab his belt buckle.

His eyes opened in surprise when the building shook, the sound of explosions ringing not too far beneath them.

Val muttered profanities before he hastily draped his wings back over himself and grabbed Vox's chin, forcing him to look up at him. “Stay here Voxxy. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Understood?”

Vox nodded even if it hurt. He just wanted Val to leave as soon as possible so he could cry alone. Seeing him cry made Val pound into him rougher.

Val gave him a chaste kiss before he left.

Tears immediately escaped and he closed his eyes, letting them stream down. Suddenly, he felt his body cower violently when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He wasn't done crying yet. How was Val so fast?

He opened his eyes to see Alastor looking at him with a pained look. He furrowed his brows, wondering if this was a dream. It was so out of place that he could only stare at the deer as he silently took off his coat, put it over his body as he carried him.

Still not fully comprehending what was real and what wasn't, Vox let his body relax and his eyes close again. The world seemed to be consumed in darkness as he slowly drifted to sleep.

Anywhere, even in the arms of his greatest enemy, was better than staying in that bed. 

Chapter 11: Ultimatum

Summary:

Previously: Vox was assaulted by Valentino, but they were interrupted by unknown explosions. Vox seemed to see Alastor before passing out.

Vox groggily opened his eyes, blinking against the dim, crimson haze that filled the room. The soft, red lighting cast long, unsettling shadows on the walls, making the unfamiliar surroundings feel even more disorienting. As he slowly became aware of the plush red sheets beneath him, a chill of unease crept up his spine. He tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, sending him collapsing back onto the pillow. The ache in his head and the throbbing pain in his chest made the situation feel surreal and alarming.

"Vox?" A voice called out softly. "You're finally awake."

As his vision cleared, he saw Alastor standing at the foot of the bed, a look of concern etched on his face. Vox jolted awake, the anger and surprise surpassing whatever physical pain he felt.

"Where am I?" he demanded, his voice hoarse and tinged with panic.

Alastor stepped closer, his eyes scanning Vox’s face with a mixture of worry and something else—an emotion Vox couldn’t quite place. "You're in my room. I brought you here after you passed out."

Vox’s heart skipped a beat. Passed out? He struggled to piece together his fragmented memories. The last thing he recalled was the horrifying encounter with Valentino. His face flushed with a blend of shame and fear as he looked away.

"What happened?" he asked, trying to steady his voice as he tossed the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He had been dressed in red pajamas. “Why were you—”

Alastor’s expression hardened, his gaze intense. "I saw what happened, Vox. Valentino was assaulting you. If my shadow hadn’t—" Vox watched as Alastor’s jaw tightened, his sharp teeth gritting.

Vox’s heart pounded. "How? How did you know?" he demanded, his voice shaking with apprehension.

"I’ve been watching over you," Alastor replied calmly. "I saw everything Valentino did. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing."

A surge of anger flared up in Vox. "You have no right to spy on me!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the room. "No right to invade my privacy like that!"

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression. "Isn’t it a bit hypocritical to accuse me of that? You’ve been keeping tabs on me, Vox. My every move, my conversations. Now you’re upset because I did the same?"

Vox’s face flushed with embarrassment. He knew Alastor had a point but couldn’t help feeling defensive. "That’s different," he protested. "I had my reasons."

“And so did I,” Alastor replied, his voice softening slightly. “And clearly my reasons were justified.” His next words came out sounding pained. “Vox, he hurts you.”

Vox’s eyes widened. "Why should you care all of a sudden if I get hurt?" he demanded, suspicion lacing his voice. "You’ve made your feelings about me abundantly clear."

Alastor grimaced at the accusation. “Believe it or not, I do care.” His voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone. “I will not stand by and allow that disgusting creature to abuse you.”

Vox bristled at Alastor's words. His claws dug into his hands, drawing blood. It was fine. Valentino got rough sometimes, but he wasn’t always like that. Sometimes he was sweet and caring. It was fine. It’s fine. I’m fine.  

"It's none of your business what Valentino and I do," he snapped. "Just because we have history doesn’t mean you can meddle whenever you feel like it."

“Vox—”

“No,” Vox interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “You forfeited your right to an opinion on my life a long time ago. And so what? Let’s say it was true. Val and I have been together for decades now. Why take an interest now, when so much has happened already?”

Alastor’s eyes widened, his lips parting. “Vox. Are you saying that this has been going on this whole time?”

Vox blinked, cursing himself for being careless with his wording. “N-No. Whatever. You shouldn’t have brought me here.”

He shouldn’t have let him.

"Would you rather have stayed there for Valentino to come back and continue violating you?" Alastor's voice was cold and unyielding. “You say it’s none of my business, but I beg to differ. Why wouldn’t it be my business what happens to what’s mine?”

Vox froze, staring at Alastor in shock. His heart raced as he tried to process the declaration. Alastor’s voice carried a clear threat. “And in case I haven't made it abundantly clear, I don’t like others touching what’s mine.”

Those words snapped Vox out of his paralysis. “Shut the FUCK up! I’m not yours! Quit talking as if I’m a thing to own!” He let out an exasperated laugh, another wave of fatigue washing over him. “I’m my own fucking person! I’m an Overlord for fuck’s sake!”

Alastor’s eyes darkened. “Yet you allow Valentino to treat you as nothing more than a plaything.” Alastor's words made him flinch back. “You're quite obviously stronger than him, why do you let him put his hands on you— defile you—when one move would have left him as a pile of ash on the floor.

“I don’t… I…” Vox closed his eyes, struggling to maintain control. Too much. It was all too much.

“What do you want from me, Alastor?” Vox’s voice trembled, thick with a mix of exhaustion and raw vulnerability. He stared at Alastor with eyes that had seen too much, his usual bravado giving way to a fragile sense of defeat. The pain in his voice was palpable, revealing the weight of the situation he was struggling to process.

Alastor’s demeanor shifted as he took a deep breath, his usually confident facade cracking. “I… I apologize,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer, sincerer tone. The words seemed to carry a weight of genuine regret that Vox hadn’t heard before. For a moment, Alastor’s eyes lost their usual sharpness, replaced by an uncharacteristic softness that hinted at deeper emotions. Vox’s eyes flew open in disbelief. Alastor, the ever-confident demon, was admitting fault. “I went too far last time. I should have respected your boundaries. I regret my actions.”

Vox stared at him, shocked by the sincerity. That look on his face was not one he'd seen before. It couldn't have been remorse, could it?

Alastor’s gaze held his, a silent plea in his eyes. He narrowed his eyes, looking for any signs of deception. He found none. It was unsettling but undeniably real.

Vox, struggling to find his voice, finally said, “Yeah. That's right. You fucked up. Glad you can admit it.” He paused, then added, “But I doubt you brought me here just to apologize. So why don’t you just tell me what the fuck it is you really want. ”

“You,” Alastor stated simply. “I am tired of this charade. I want my old friend back.”

Alastor's words hung heavily in the air. The idea of returning to their past relationship seemed surreal after all that had happened. Vox's mind raced. Was this a genuine offer to repair their relationship, or was there more to Alastor’s motives? His previous anger and confusion gave way to a mix of longing and hesitation.

“Why now?” Vox asked, his voice trembling slightly. “What changed?”

“Because you are mine, Vox. My rival, yes, but still mine.  I didn’t mind you being my enemy, but then I found out you’ve been giving parts of yourself to another. That is unacceptable. If there's one rule I live by, it's that I. Don't. Share.”

Alastor’s possessive demand sent a shiver down Vox’s spine. He was caught between anger at Alastor’s audacity and an unsettling sense of longing. He had always been drawn to Alastor, even in their adversarial moments. There was something about the other demon that made him feel alive, made him feel like he belonged. But now, Alastor was claiming him as if he were some sort of possession. It was a strange and unsettling feeling.

“I’m my own person,” Vox said, his voice filled with defiance. “I choose who I want to be with.”

Alastor stepped closer, his gaze unrelenting. “You do have a choice, Vox. You can choose me, or you can choose Valentino, but you cannot have both.”

The ultimatum felt like a noose around Vox’s neck. He struggled to process everything. “...choose between you?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Alastor’s gaze remained steady. “Yes.”

Vox’s anger flared again. “WHAT THE FUCK? After all this time, you think you can just waltz back into my life because I’m with someone else!? You want to go back to being friends like nothing ever happened? Fuck that and fuck you!”

Alastor’s expression hardened. “We can decide what we are later. Whether that be rivals, friends, or something else entirely. However, should you not choose me, then we will be nothing. Nothing at all.”

The frustration started to affect him, his body trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. His eyes started welling with tears and Alastor’s face shifted, eyebrows furrowing. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? The pain you’ve caused? Valentino might be aggressive, but you… you left scars that never healed. You can’t just expect me to forget that because you suddenly decided you want me back.”

Alastor’s eyes widened, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I didn’t think—”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Vox snapped. “Because you never cared about the damage you caused. You only care now that someone else is in my life. Talking about me like I’m a piece of meat someone’s taken from you. Here I am, an Omega caught in between two Alphas, pulling him in opposite directions, not caring if they rip him apart.”

Alastor’s face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Don’t compare me to him. Valentino is a brute, a monster. I’m—”

“A monster too!” Vox shouted, his eyes blazing. “You’ve hurt me in ways that he never could, Alastor. The things you did… they’re still with me. They didn’t go away just because you fucked off! The way you played with my emotions, how you abandoned me like I was nothing? Don’t pretend it’s all so simple.”

Alastor’s expression faltered. His usual composure cracked as he processed Vox’s words. The regret in his eyes was evident, though he struggled to maintain his firm stance. “I didn’t mean to cause you such pain,” he said, his voice faltering. “If I had known—”

“You knew enough,” Vox said, his voice lower but still intense. “And now, you want me to choose between you and Valentino. How is that fair? How can you expect me to make a decision when both of you have caused me so much hurt?”

Alastor’s face softened, his anger giving way to genuine remorse. “I… I see now. I didn’t realize the depth of my actions. I’m sorry, Vox. I truly am.”

Vox’s anger began to wane, replaced by a profound weariness. “I need time to think,” Vox said, his voice barely a whisper as the exhaustion and emotional turmoil took their toll. He buried his face in his hands, feeling the gravity of the decision press down on him. “I need to understand what I truly want, and what’s best for me.” The weight of the choice felt almost unbearable, as if the very essence of his being was at stake.

Alastor nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and determination. Alastor’s gaze hardened with a steely resolve. “Take all the time you need to make your choice,” he said, his tone carrying an ominous weight. “But understand this: should you choose me, I will not hesitate to end Valentino.” The threat was clear, each word deliberate and final, leaving no room for ambiguity.

Vox’s heart sank at the threat. It was expected but it still made his heart clench. The feeling of having Valentino’s fate lay heavily on his decision made bile come up his throat. He still loved Valentino, but the fact that he was being offered an option was a whole new factor he needed to consider. Then again, was Alastor truly the lesser of two evils?

A thought came to mind and Vox looked up. “What about Velvette?”

“What about her?” Alastor asked

“W-Will you hurt her too?” His stomach churned at the thought of her being caught in the crossfire, and his eyes searched Alastor’s face for any sign of malice. The idea of her suffering added a new layer of dread to his already overwhelming decision. 

Alastor tilted his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Who is she to you?"

Vox hesitated before answering, "We're friends."

“Just friends?” Alastor pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Vox sighed slightly. “She’s… she’s like a little sister to me.” His voice grew quieter as he added, “And if I’m being honest, my instincts kind of see her as my pup.”

“I see. Then I have no intention in hurting her or separating the two of you,” Alastor assured. “Is that all you wanted to ask?” Vox’s relief was tempered by lingering uncertainty.

“How do I know you won’t just leave again?” he asked, his voice strained.  “You’ve done it before.”

“A fair question,” Alastor said. “I promise this: I will not leave you of my own accord.”

Vox’s heart sank further, wondering about the loophole in Alastor’s promise. “Of your own accord?”

“Contact me when you’ve made your decision,” Alastor said, his tone shifting to finality. Vox didn't fail to notice how he blatantly ignored his question. “And one last thing—if you allow Valentino to touch you again, I’ll consider your choice made. Understood?”

“Yeah,” Vox muttered, feeling a deep-seated exhaustion. “Understood.”

Alastor put a phone on the bedside table—a way out.

“I'll let you have your privacy for the time being,” Alastor said, turning away from him as he walked to the door. He paused as his hand wrapped around the knob. “I…” Alastor sighed and Vox wished he could see his face so he could interpret more of why his voice seemed so unsure. “There are a number of problems that I've regrettably caused in our relationship.”

There was a pause, the admission stopping Vox’s breathing.

“But rest assured, old pal. I plan to do what it takes to mend the pieces and hopefully create something similar—or better yet—something greater.”

Alastor turned to the side, the smile barely visible under a half-lidded gaze Vox would interpret as loving if not for the fact that it was more plausible that he was hallucinating.

“Patience, my dear. That is required for both of us. I just hope the wait would lead to an outcome that would be the best for the parties.”

Alastor opened the door, walking out. “Take care of yourself, Vox.”

The door closed, the silence that followed making him feel like he was seeing the four walls close in.

Vox felt a strange mix of relief and confusion. His mind raced, struggling to reconcile his feelings for both Alastor and Valentino. The decision weighed heavily on his shoulders as he lay back down, trying to clear his thoughts.

Vox was left alone, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions and the weight of the choice he had to make.

Chapter 12: The Illusion of Choice

Summary:

Previously: Alastor gave Vox an Ultimatum: him or Valentino.

Vox was back in his tower, the room humming with the steady thrum of technology, the scent of ozone heavy in the air. He paced back and forth, his thoughts consumed by Alastor's demand.

It felt like a slap in the face, a cruel reminder of their past. Yet, there was a part of him that longed for Alastor's attention, his approval—a longing that stirred unease in the pit of his stomach.

Vox had always been drawn to Alastor’s charisma, the way he commanded respect and fear with such ease. But that very power also unsettled him, a constant reminder of how Alastor took what he wanted without a second thought. How could— did —Vox desire someone who had always been so callous, so indifferent to the feelings of others?

His pacing quickened as his thoughts grew more tangled. He didn’t want to choose between Alastor and Valentino—each held a piece of his life, his identity. And what of Velvette? Could he trust Alastor not to harm her? She didn't want her struggling in the chaos that would follow.

Determined to escape his turmoil, Vox threw himself into his work. Hours passed as he buried himself in emails and the intricate details of his latest project. As he worked, the tension began to ease, replaced by a sense of purpose and determination.

But even as he lost himself in his creations, Alastor’s ultimatum loomed at the edge of his thoughts, like a fly that kept buzzing in his ear. The sun began to set outside his window, casting long shadows across the room, a reminder of the world beyond his tower walls.

With a sigh, Vox stood up from his desk, stretching his stiff limbs. He knew he couldn’t ignore Alastor’s demand forever, but for now, he could at least lose himself in the comforting embrace of technology. This was where he thrived, a place where there were no secondary genders, no complicated feelings, and no thoughts other than getting from point A to point B.

As Vox made his way towards the door, something caught his eye—the screen that Valentino had shattered earlier. The sight of it, still lying on the floor, sent a jolt through him. He hesitated, his breath catching in his throat as he carefully picked it up. The glass was jagged and cracked, the once-perfect surface now marred by the violent force that had been used against it.

Vox turned the broken screen over in his hands, his fingers tracing the sharp edges. A chill ran down his spine as he stared at the fractures, each one a silent testament to Valentino's anger. 

The cracks in the screen seemed to mirror the cracks in his own resolve, the fractures in his relationship with Valentino that had been growing for so long. How many times had he dismissed those moments of violence, excused them as part of Valentino’s temper? How many times had he ignored the fear that clawed at his chest, telling himself that it wasn’t so bad, that he could handle it?

Yet, standing here with the broken screen in his hands, Vox couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling that had settled over him. It wasn’t just about the screen, or the shattered glass—it was about the realization that Valentino’s outbursts were becoming harder to ignore, harder to forgive.

In the quiet of the room, Vox's thoughts turned to Alastor. Alastor, who had hurt him too, who had pushed him to the edge with his games and manipulations. But the fear he felt with Alastor was not the same. With Alastor, the danger had always felt controlled, calculated—a sharp edge that could cut, but only if he allowed it. Vox had never felt the same gut-wrenching dread with Alastor that he did with Valentino.

The only time he did was when he was on top of him, holding him down after whisking him away from the Overlord meeting. But, he apologized, and it wasn't in the nonchalant, dismissive way Val usually did. It was actually genuine, the look in his eyes remorseful. It had never happened before and Vox actually doubted he’d do it again.

One more thing was that him being an Omega wasn't really something Alastor had put him down for other than that incident. Prior to their fall out, he had been respectful, concerned even, and adaptable to his needs. Val, however, made it his kink, his sick, perverted reminder to him that he was beneath him in more ways than one.

Even in Alastor’s darkest moments, when the Radio Demon’s smile had twisted into something truly malevolent, Vox had never doubted that he would survive the encounter. Alastor wanted him alive, wanted to play with him, to draw out their twisted connection. They fought, violently, but it was through equal terms—like a play or dance that only the two of them could understand. There was a line Alastor would not cross—a line that Valentino had already blurred too many times.

Vox’s grip tightened on the broken screen. For all of Alastor’s faults, there was something almost... respectful about the way he treated Vox. As if Vox were more than just a possession, more than just another piece in Alastor’s endless game. Alastor might have wanted control, but he didn’t seem to crave destruction, at least not in the same way. He wanted Vox to bend, not break.

Valentino, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care if Vox broke entirely. There was something fundamentally different in the way Valentino expressed his anger—wild, unrestrained, and utterly consuming. 

A bitter taste filled Vox’s mouth as he began to wonder if Valentino’s love was worth the cost.

As he stared down at the shattered screen, the cold reality of his situation settled in. This wasn’t just about a broken piece of technology; it was about the life he was living, the choices he was making. Valentino’s abuse had left its mark, not just on the screen, but on Vox himself—etching cracks into his spirit that were becoming harder to ignore.

Yes. It was abuse. After so long of denying it for what it was, this time he’d call it what it is. He never wanted to admit it, fearing the humiliation and shame he’d feel after, only, those weren't what he was feeling.

Vox felt a surge of anger rise within him—anger at Valentino for what he had done, and anger at himself for allowing it to continue for so long. He had convinced himself that he needed Valentino, that the love and attention he received were worth the pain, the fear, the constant walking on eggshells. But standing here now, with the broken screen in his hands, he could no longer deny the truth: Valentino’s love was a poison, seeping into every part of his life and slowly destroying him from the inside out.

Vox’s chest tightened as he finally acknowledged the truth he had been avoiding for so long. He didn’t need Valentino. He didn’t need the chaos, the pain, the constant fear of what might happen next. He had survived without Alastor before, and he could survive without Valentino now. And perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a way to live without the weight of fear pressing down on him, without the looming threat of violence hanging over his head.

With a quick, decisive motion, Vox disposed of the broken screen, as if casting off the last remnants of the hold Valentino had over him. There were more important things at stake—his sanity, his life, his future. He wasn’t just a puppet to be controlled or a toy to be broken. He was Vox, and it was time to start living for himself again.

As he turned away from the door, a new sense of determination settled over him. He would not make the decision yet, despite the realizations that had come with the ultimatum presented, but he felt courage, it seeped through his veins and gave him a renewed type of strength he hadn't felt in a long time.

He wasn’t sure what the future held, but one thing was certain: it was time to take control of his own life, to break free from the chains that had bound him for so long. Whether it was Alastor, Valentino, or anyone else who tried to hold him down, Vox knew now that he was stronger than they gave him credit for. And he was ready to prove it.

---

Alastor's heart thrummed with a dark, eager excitement as he strode through the dimly lit corridors of his domain, his thoughts consumed by one singular figure: Vox. The very idea of him, so close yet so tantalizingly out of reach, set his blood alight with a possessive fervor that he could barely contain. Alastor had always been a man of control, but the thought of Vox slipping away from him, of choosing another, was a notion that he simply couldn’t abide. Not now, not ever.

When he finally reached his room, Alastor shut the door behind him with a deliberate click, the sound echoing in the silence. He moved to his favorite plush armchair, sinking into its welcoming embrace, the familiar scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the aroma calm the tempest within him, but it was no use. His thoughts were already pulling him back to Vox, to the choice he had given him, to the quiet desperation that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

Vox had a decision to make, and Alastor was determined to respect it—for now. He wanted Vox to choose him willingly, to see the power and promise that only he could offer, to be drawn to him out of a devotion that mirrored his own. But Alastor knew himself too well. If Vox hesitated, if he dared to choose Valentino, then Alastor’s patience would evaporate like mist in the morning sun. He would take what was his, and the consequences would be swift and merciless.

As he leaned back in his chair, Alastor allowed himself the luxury of a daydream. He imagined Vox by his side, the digital gleam in his eyes softening into something like adoration as they spoke in low, conspiratorial tones. He could see them, walking through the streets of Hell together, Vox’s laughter mingling with his own as they reveled in their shared power and dominance. The image of Vox leaning into him, seeking his touch, sent a shiver of delight down Alastor’s spine. Oh, how he craved that connection, the knowledge that Vox belonged to him and him alone.

The alternative came to mind, the one wherein Vox wrongly chooses Valentino. It would be hard initially, but Alastor was not one to shy away from a challenge. Vox would plead, beg, or even fight his way out of his clutches. But his efforts will be in vain, of course. Alastor will find a way to break his resolve little by little, piece by piece, until inevitably he will be a willing victim beneath him, wanting him— needing him.

He could see it so clearly: Vox in his embrace, their ambitions intertwined. He imagined Vox looking up at him, collared and obedient, a perfect symbol of their bond. The idea of that collar, snug around Vox’s neck, was intoxicating. It would be a mark of ownership, a declaration to all of Hell that Vox was his, now and forever. The thought sent a surge of euphoria through him, and Alastor found himself smiling, his grin stretching impossibly wide.

But then, as quickly as the fantasy had taken hold, Alastor reined it in. Not yet. Not yet. There was a fine line between desire and obsession, and Alastor knew he had to walk it carefully. He had to give Vox the illusion of choice, the semblance of freedom, if only to savor the moment when Vox inevitably came to him of his own volition. That was the prize Alastor sought—the willing surrender, the victory that came not from force but from genuine desire.

Still, the hunger gnawed at him, the need to claim Vox, to ensure that he would never again belong to anyone else. Alastor’s thoughts darkened as he considered the possibility of Vox choosing Valentino. The mere idea of it made his blood boil. If it came to that, Alastor would have no choice but to act. Valentino would die, of course—his end was non-negotiable, but the method, oh, the method would be something truly special. And Vox? Vox would be his, whether through love or through chains.

And so, Alastor settled back into his chair, letting the warmth of the room and the scent of coffee soothe him. He would have Vox, one way or another. The choice was his to make… but the outcome, that was already decided.

Chapter 13: Social Distancing

Chapter by Pseudonym_of_a_Ghost

Summary:

Previously: Alastor had given Vox an ultimatum between him or Valentino. Vox admitted to himself that his relationship with Valentino was abusive and decided to not allow it to continue.

A few days passed, and Vox found himself growing increasingly distant from Valentino. He avoided him whenever possible, preferring the solitude of his work or the refuge of his thoughts. The more space he created between them, the more the fog that had clouded his mind began to lift, revealing patterns he had never noticed before. Valentino’s affection, once comforting, now felt like a carefully woven net, designed to ensnare and control him.

Valentino noticed the change and grew concerned. His attempts to draw Vox back into his orbit became more frequent, laced with a charm that had once been irresistible. He would brush against Vox as he passed, let his fingers linger on Vox's arm, or speak in that soft, sultry tone that used to send shivers down Vox’s spine. But now, instead of feeling warmth, Vox felt a creeping unease. Each touch, each word, felt like a calculated move in a game he was no longer willing to play.

Despite these thoughts, there were moments when Vox faltered, his resolve wavering under the weight of Valentino’s attention. Valentino’s concern seemed genuine at times, his worry almost touching. But as Vox distanced himself, he began to see through the veneer of concern to the control that lay beneath. It was in the way Valentino’s eyes narrowed slightly when Vox pulled away, in the subtle shift of his tone when his attempts at closeness were rebuffed. Valentino was not concerned about Vox’s well-being—he was concerned about losing his hold on him.

Velvette, ever the observer, seemed to notice the change as well. At first, she seemed to dismiss it as another one of their typical quarrels—she had seen them clash before, after all. But as the days passed, Vox could tell she was beginning to sense that something was different. Her gaze lingered on him longer, her usually cheerful demeanor tinged with uncertainty. There was even a moment when Valentino reached out to touch Vox’s shoulder, his grip gentle but possessive, and Vox, without thinking, reacted sharply, a brief spark of electricity crackling through his hand as he jerked away.

Valentino pulled back, his expression briefly flickering with surprise before he masked it with a smile. "Careful, Voxxy," he said lightly, his voice as smooth as silk. "You’re gonna zap someone if you’re not careful."

Vox forced a smile, but inside, his thoughts were churning. That reflexive use of his powers had been instinctual, almost primal—a response to a danger he hadn’t consciously acknowledged. He glanced at Velvette, who was watching them with wide eyes, her usual smirk replaced by something more guarded. She didn’t know about Valentino’s darker side, about the way his affection could twist into something suffocating. But Vox could see the wheels turning in her mind, could see that she was starting to pick up on the tension that now defined his interactions with Valentino.

When movie night arrived, Vox entered the living area. Velvette and Valentino were already settled on the couch, and Vox forced a smile as he approached. Almost instinctively, he moved to sit next to Valentino, but Alastor’s words echoed in his mind, pulling him back. Vox, he hurts you. The thought lingered, heavy and oppressive, as he quickly changed course, settling on the other side of the couch.

Velvette entered the room, carrying a large bowl of popcorn. Without a word, she set it on the coffee table and took her place between Vox and Valentino, her gaze flickering between them as if trying to gauge the atmosphere. The movie started, its vibrant colors and booming sound filling the room with life, but Vox felt increasingly restless. Valentino’s presence, once a source of comfort, now felt stifling, as though the air itself had thickened with tension.

Vox could sense Valentino watching him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze lingering with an intensity that made Vox’s skin prickle. He tried to focus on the movie, but every time Valentino shifted closer, every time his arm brushed against Velvette as if by accident, Vox felt his chest tighten with unease. Usually, he wouldn’t mind his proximity toward Velvette, but now, he could feel his instincts react negatively to how close he was getting to her. The room was dark, but the light from the screen occasionally cast shadows across Valentino’s face, highlighting the subtle shifts in his expression—frustration, impatience, and something darker that Vox didn’t want to name.

As the credits rolled and the lights came back on, Valentino turned to Vox with a hopeful expression, his voice dipping into that familiar, soothing tone. "Come on, Voxxy," he said softly, reaching out to take his hand. "Let’s go to my room. I want to talk to you."

Vox recoiled from the touch, the action almost reflexive. He could see the momentary flash of anger in Valentino’s eyes before it was replaced with a mask of wounded concern. "I said I was sorry, Vox," Valentino continued, his voice wavering with frustration, but still laced with that honeyed persuasion. "But you won’t even give me a chance to make things right."

Vox paused, his thoughts swirling. Alastor had forced his hand, but that wasn’t Valentino’s fault. He was just trying to make things right... wasn't he? Valentino’s words were like a balm, soothing the hurt and confusion that had been plaguing Vox for days. But as he stood there, staring at Valentino’s pleading expression, that voice in the back of his mind whispered otherwise: He never apologized. He’s never truly been sorry. How could he have been when he made the same mistakes repeatedly?

"Vox, we can work through this together," Valentino nearly whispered, his tone pleading, the softness of his voice designed to pull at Vox’s heartstrings. "If it’s really such a big deal, I promise I won’t do it again. Come on, get over it."

But Vox could see through the words now—see the ruse for what it was. The apologies were never sincere; they were a means to an end, a way to smooth things over until the next incident. Valentino’s affection was a trap, designed to keep him close, to keep him under control. And the more Vox distanced himself, the clearer the pattern became.

Vox’s heart ached with the weight of his realization, the contrast between Valentino and Alastor growing starker by the moment. Alastor’s cruelty was honest in its own way—there was no pretense, no false tenderness. But with Valentino, everything was a façade, a carefully constructed illusion meant to keep Vox trapped in a cycle of dependence and fear.

Velvette’s gaze was sharp now, her eyes flicking between them, clearly sensing the tension that had grown into something more than just a lover’s quarrel. Vox could see the concern in her eyes, could feel the weight of her unspoken questions.

With a final glance at Valentino, Vox made up his mind. He didn’t want to hear any more promises or reassurances. The cycle had to end. Without another word, he stood and headed towards his own part of the tower, leaving Velvette and Valentino in silence.

As Vox walked away, he felt the tension ease slightly, the suffocating grip of Valentino’s influence loosening its hold. He wasn’t free yet—there were still decisions to be made, still battles to fight within himself. But for the first time, Vox felt a flicker of hope, a spark of defiance against the chains that had bound him for so long.

And as he retreated into the safety of his own space, Vox knew that the time was coming when he would have to choose—between the comfort of familiarity and the uncertainty of something new. Between Valentino’s gilded cage and the dangerous, unpredictable freedom that Alastor represented. It was a choice he couldn’t avoid much longer, but for now, he allowed himself to breathe, to savor the small victory of distance.

For the first time in a long while, Vox felt like he was beginning to take control of his own life again. And that was a power no one—not Valentino, not even Alastor—could take from him.

---

Velvette watched as Vox exited the room, his movements tense and deliberate, as though he was trying to keep himself from bolting. She had been noticing this change in him for a while now, but it had only recently become impossible to ignore. Something was wrong, and it was more than just one of their usual squabbles.

She turned her attention back to Valentino, who was slumped on the couch, a look of despair clouding his usually confident demeanor. The way he looked at her made her heart ache. Valentino wasn’t one to show vulnerability easily. But now, he seemed lost, like a man on the edge of a precipice, afraid of what he might lose if he fell.

"Please, Velvette," he said, his voice strained. "You're the only one he listens to. I need you to talk to Vox and convince him to forgive me."

Velvette hesitated. The tension between Val and Vox had been building for weeks, and it had reached a point where she wasn’t sure if she could help. Vox’s reactions had become sharper, colder, as if he were guarding something fragile that Val kept threatening to break. The dynamic between them had shifted, and it made Velvette uneasy. She wanted to help, but something told her this wasn’t a simple disagreement.

She sighed, looking at Valentino with a mix of concern and understanding. "Alright," she agreed reluctantly. "I'll try. But not tonight. It wouldn’t do any good to talk right now. Maybe in the morning, after everyone’s had some time to cool off."

Valentino nodded, though the desperation didn’t leave his eyes. "Thank you, Vel. I just… I just want things to go back to how they were."

Velvette forced a smile, though inside she felt a growing unease. She had always been the mediator between the two of them, the one who could smooth things over and keep the peace. But this time, it felt different. It was as if Vox was pulling away, not just from Val, but from everything that tied them together. And the way Valentino was clinging to her now, as though she were his last hope, only made the knot in her stomach tighten.

As she left the room to give Val some space, Velvette couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her. She paused in the hallway, leaning against the wall, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t quite piece together.

What had changed between them? Why was Vox reacting so harshly, and why did it seem like Val was more desperate than ever?

Velvette sighed, rubbing her arms as if to ward off a chill. She wanted to believe this was just another rough patch, something they could work through, like they always had. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t that simple. There was something she was missing, something crucial that neither Vox nor Val was telling her. And that scared her.

Velvette made her way to her room, her footsteps heavy with worry. She couldn’t ignore the sense of foreboding that gnawed at her as she prepared for bed. The Vees had always been a tight-knit group, their bond unbreakable. But now, for the first time, she wondered if that bond was fraying, unraveling in ways she couldn’t yet see.

As she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, Velvette’s thoughts swirled with unanswered questions. Tomorrow, she would talk to Vox, try to get him to open up, and maybe—just maybe—she could help mend whatever was broken between him and Val.

But as sleep eluded her, a nagging feeling settled in her chest, telling her that this was just the beginning of something far more complicated. And that, perhaps, she knew the least of what was really happening to the ones closest to her.

Chapter 14: Mirrored Screens

Chapter by Pseudonym_of_a_Ghost

Summary:

Previously: Vox has been avoiding Valentino. Val asked Velvette to talk to Vox for him.

The next morning, Velvette woke up with a determination to confront Vox about his strange behavior. She knew something was off, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Upon entering his screen room, Velvette found Vox in his usual spot. She approached him cautiously, calling out his name. Vox didn't respond, his focus entirely consumed by the devices before him. Velvette sighed heavily, frustration and worry growing within her as she tried to think of what could be causing his odd behavior.

"Vox?" She called out again. She saw him stiffen in response before he turned to face her,  a wide smile spreading across his features like a mask. But Velvette could tell it was forced – insincere – and it only served to deepen her concern for him. That's the smile he used for paparazzi, not for her.

"Vox, can we talk?" Her voice was soft, hoping that it would disarm him enough to actually tell her what was bothering him.

Vox hesitated for a moment before nodding; disconnecting from the machines and stepping back to face her better. "You have my full attention."

Velvette wasted no time in getting straight to the point. "You’ve been off lately," she began, her voice gentle but firm. "I don’t know exactly when everything got off the rails, but there’s something no one is telling me. I’m sick and tired of skirting around whatever it is. Spill."

Vox opened his mouth, but no words came out. His smile was clearly strained.

“And you've been avoiding Valentino,” she added softly.  “I thought you would have made up by now. Why are you two leaving me in the dark?”

Velvette watched his expression crumble under her gaze, and she knew that something was truly bothering him. She decided to press the issue further. "Vox, what's going on? You can tell me anything."

Vox's hands clenched into fists as he tried to turn away, but Velvette grabbed his arm, her grip firm. "Vox, what did Val do?"

Velvette's heart dropped when she looked into Vox's eyes. He was scared. Vox should never have that look on his face. What did Val do? What did he do?

“Vox, please. Trust me to help you. You know I’d rather hear it from you than him. What’s happening? Did he—” Velvette paused, not even wanting to think of the possibility. “—hurt you?” she whispered.

“I— He—” Vox choked out. His eyes started to well up in frustrated tears. He squeezed them shut as he stepped back, stumbling over whatever wire or bump there was on the floor and landing on his ass.

“Hey,” Velvette called out in alarm, crouching down and putting a hand on his shoulder and the other on the edge of his screen, soothing him with gentle pats. “Fuck, Vox. Breath. Just breathe. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Vox violently shook his head. "It's not. It's not fine." More tears escaped his eyes.

Velvette rubbed his back, trying to calm him down, despite the fact that she was internally freaking out at seeing Vox like this.

"He hurts me, Vel."

Her hand stilled. 

“He hurts me,” he says again, as if he can’t stop himself. The confessions of what happened spill out of his lips as if a dam had broken. “He hits me. He rapes me. He—He ruined me.”

Velvette's heart shattered into a million pieces as she processed Vox's words. She couldn't believe that Valentino, her friend, was capable of such horrific acts. She had always known that Valentino was violent, but she never would have thought that it went this far. But the evidence was right in front of her—Vox's broken spirit, his tears, his fear. It was all too real.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, anything, to help Vox. But she didn't know what to do. She felt helpless, trapped in a nightmare that she couldn't wake up from. How could she have missed the signs? How could she have been so blind to the fact that Valentino was capable of such cruelty?

Velvette's mind flashed back to the first time she had met Vox. He had been so confident, so charismatic. He had been the epitome of a showman, always in control and always one step ahead. But now, she saw a different side of him. A side that was broken and vulnerable. It was a side that she had never seen before, and it made her heart ache.

She had always thought that Vox could handle anything, that he was unbreakable. But here he was— breaking down in front of her.

The silence in wake of Vox's words was deafening, but she couldn't seem to form words. She didn't know what she would even say. What could she say? How could she help him?

 “At first, it was a bit of a push here or maybe a rough tug there." Velvette was pulled from her thoughts as Vox began talking again. "But now it’s worse. It’s so much worse, and I don’t even know how it transitioned between the before and after.”

As she listened to Vox's words, Velvette realized that she needed to gather more information. She needed to know the extent of Valentino's abuse and how long it had been going on. She needed to find out if there was anything she could do to stop it. She needed to see things for herself. 

“Show me,” Velvette demanded. Her eyebrows were furrowed, eyes wide as she bit her lip. Her fists balled. Pink stitches ran up her arms. They glowed, a part of her demon form threatening to come out.

“No,” Vox protested, his voice breaking. “You don’t want to see that.”

“I do, Vox. I need to see everything.” Velvette’s voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. She wasn’t a child that needed protecting, even if she was Vox’s pup. Vox needed her help, and she wasn’t going to let anyone stand in her way of helping him, not even Vox himself. “If you don’t show me, I’ll find out on my own.”

Vox sighed, defeated. He stood up and walked to the wall of screens. His hands shook as he pressed a few keys, rendering the screen dark until it showed multiple angles of him and Valentino.

She stood beside Vox, looking up at the screens, eyes darting from one to another. The feed showed Vox’s memories— memories of Valentino’s cruelty, of Vox’s pain. As the images flickered on screen—Valentino’s fists, his sneers, the sickening sound of Vox hitting the floor—Velvette’s breath hitched.

Her chest rose up and down, increasing in frequency as the stitches on her arms spread and refused to fade, the doll part of her becoming increasingly obvious. More stitches appeared on her skin, as if she was sewn together by two halves. There were stitches on her lips as well, stretching from one end to the other. She couldn’t bring herself to care as her demon form slowly took over.

Lines appeared, crisscrossing through various parts of her body as the pressure in the room intensified. Vox pressed a button, and the screens went dark. Silence fell between them.

“Vox,” Velvette whispered, her voice shaky with disbelief, “I didn’t know.” Her eyes, usually playful and mischievous, were clouded with fury and heartbreak. 

“I- I didn’t want you to know,” Vox said in a whisper. He couldn’t meet her eyes and she could see the pain etched into his features. “I didn’t want you to see that.”

Velvette took a deep breath, and her form regressed to normal. Her gaze turned to Vox before she stepped toward him. Without thinking twice, she wrapped arms around his middle. She held him close, letting him feel the warmth and comfort of her embrace. 

All she wanted to do was tell him that everything would be okay, but she knew that she couldn't. She couldn't lie to him. She couldn't make empty promises.

They stayed like that for a while, but eventually Velvette pulled back. She needed to know. "Why didn’t you fight back?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why did you let him do that to you? You’re stronger than him, Vox!” Her voice raised in volume before quieting once again. “You shouldn’t be able to get hurt like that.”

Vox flinched at the question, stepping back from her. “I loved him... or I thought I did,” he muttered, looking away. “I thought this was the best I could get. It’s Hell, Velvette. There’s no such thing as a healthy relationship, right?”

"Vox…" Velvette started, but he cut her off.

“I kept telling myself it would get better, that it was normal,” Vox continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But it wasn’t. And I know that now. I’m trying to get out.”

Velvette gathered her thoughts and composed herself. "How can I help you?" 

Vox tilted his head. “What do you mean?

“I need to be part of a plan that’ll stop me from killing him as soon as I see him. You deserve to end him more than anyone else, but I need to know it’ll happen.” She put her hands on her hips. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Vox said, but Velvette could hear the uncertainty in his voice. 

Velvette’s expression softened. “Vox, whatever it is, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. We’ll get you out of this.”

Vox looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

Chapter 15: Late Night Decisions

Summary:

Previously: Velvette found out about Valentino's abuse towards Vox.

Vox sat hunched over his desk, the glow of screens reflecting off the surface of his TV head. Graphs, data sets, and endless stacks of paperwork were neatly arranged around him, a stark contrast to the chaos inside his mind. The comforting hum of electronics did little to calm his thoughts, which constantly circled back to Alastor, to Valentino, and to the suffocating mess his life had become.

Velvette had taken it better than he’d hoped. She was angry, shocked, and confused, which were all well and expected. But what Vox was most relieved about was her eyes. They were void of judgment and disparagement. He had fully expected her to think less of him due to the circumstances he’d put himself in. He had willingly stayed in a horrible relationship, and he’s not even out of it yet!

He shifted in his chair, trying to shake off the intrusive memories. Then there was Alastor. His smirk haunted him, the demon’s voice curling through his brain like smoke, muddling it further than it already was. They had shared so much—years of rivalry and twisted friendship—but now there was only bitterness, a game with no clear winner. He wasn’t sure if the empathy or concern he showed in their last conversation was genuine. And what did it matter? The pain still remained. Vox’s fingers tightened around the pen in his hand, a faint crack forming along the plastic.

"Focus," he muttered, his voice flat, though laced with frustration. He rubbed his temples, hoping to push the tension away.

The spreadsheets blurred in front of him, numbers blending into incomprehensible gibberish. He had to finish. He had to keep working. Thinking about Alastor or Valentino would only make everything worse. His hands moved mechanically, entering data with a practiced precision, but his mind was somewhere else, trapped in an endless loop of anxiety and regret. He buried himself deeper in the numbers, as though the flow of information could somehow drown out his personal hell.

Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes—he couldn’t tell. The darkness outside had deepened, the city lights flickering in the distance like stars in a polluted sky. Vox finally leaned back, his body stiff and aching, as though it had been carved out of stone. His fingers twitched as he set his pen down, his gaze drifting toward the window.

The silence was almost unbearable.

He stood slowly, pushing his chair away with a scraping noise that echoed through the room. His footsteps were deliberate—heavy—as he made his way down the empty corridors of his tower. The halls were devoid of life at this hour, just as he preferred them. The cold stillness enveloped him, offering a fleeting sense of peace. But the quiet was temporary, and he knew it wouldn’t last.

Reaching his private quarters, Vox shut the door behind him and let out a weary sigh. His polished composure cracked for just a moment, allowing a hint of vulnerability to slip through. His face scrunched up, as if to hold back a frustrated sob, before he stopped. It wasn’t the time to cry. Collapsing onto his bed, he stared up at the ceiling, his body sinking into the mattress like a lead weight.

Exhaustion threatened to pull him under, but his mind was restless, thoughts churning like storm clouds. Alastor’s ultimatum still gnawed at him, and Valentino’s constant demands loomed large in his consciousness. Vox clenched his jaw. He couldn’t afford to dwell on them, yet they always found a way to creep back in.

He knew time wasn’t abundant, especially when impatience brewed on both sides. But didn’t he deserve it? After everything he’d been through, shouldn’t he be given a bit of solace within the eye of the storm?

His fingers traced absent patterns over the silk sheets, a futile attempt at distraction. Was it really possible to care for two beings who caused him so much pain? Was he that much of a masochist? His chest tightened at the thought, frustration building as he forced his eyes shut, hoping sleep would finally claim him. He took deep, controlled breaths, focusing on the rhythmic sounds of the city outside.

Eventually, the noise lulled him into a fitful sleep, the steady hum of distant traffic and faint chatter blending into a soothing white noise. His body relaxed, tension slipping away as he sank deeper into the bed, the relentless storm inside his mind quieting at last.

---

Hours later, Vox stirred. His sleep had been shallow, his dreams plagued by vague shadows of past encounters. But something was wrong. His body stiffened. Warm breath ghosted over his neck, a hand pressing against his chest, firm but insistent. Panic shot through him like ice, his mind snapping into full alertness. Before he could react, a hand pushed him back down, keeping him pinned to the mattress.

“Val?” His voice was groggy, heavy with confusion. He squinted through the dim lighting, realizing with a sickening jolt that Valentino was on top of him, his body too close, too possessive.

“I’ve been waiting for you all night,” Valentino’s voice was low, sultry, as his hand trailed across Vox’s chest. “You can’t keep me waiting any longer.”

“Stop,” Vox muttered, struggling to sit up, but Valentino’s weight kept him firmly in place. The pressure against his hip was unmistakable, the heat of Valentino’s desire palpable in the air.

“Don’t do this…” Vox’s voice cracked, betraying his unease. This can’t be happening. Not again.

“You need me, Vox,” Valentino purred, his breath hot against Vox’s ear. “Let me remind you why.”

“I can’t,” Vox breathed, his voice barely a whisper, his stomach knotting with anxiety. “We need space—”

"Space?” Valentino’s playful tone hardened, anger seeping into his voice. “You frigid bitch. I’ve been patient long enough. Stop being a spoiled brat and submit like the good Omega you’re supposed to be.” His grip tightened, a dangerous edge creeping into his movements.

Fear flashed through Vox. He couldn’t let this escalate. He had to end it now. With a sudden surge of strength, he shoved Valentino off, breaking free from his suffocating grasp. Rolling out of bed, he staggered to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest as adrenaline coursed through him.

Valentino’s face twisted into a sneer as he stood up to face him, his eyes narrowing with fury. “You really think you can deny me forever?” He spat the words, his voice dripping with venom. “You’re just a selfish bastard, Vox. Always have been.”

“Valentino, enough,” Vox’s voice was firmer now, the fear momentarily replaced by anger. He had to hold on to the latter to keep his resolve. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”

Valentino’s lip curled, a mockery of a smile twisting his features. “You can sleep while I fuck you.” His voice was thick with lust, but there was no warmth in it. Only possession.

Revulsion and rage rippled through Vox’s body. “No,” he said sharply, stepping back. “You need to leave. Now.”

For a moment, Valentino glared at him, eyes burning with contempt. He took a step toward him. Vox, fueled by panic, released a bolt of lightning. Valentino’s eyes widened, letting out a small shout when the electricity singed the edge of one of his wings. Smoke drifted from the white fur and he patted it down frantically, fearing it might worsen. Vox’s instincts almost made him move forward to help him but he gritted his teeth. Not this time.

Valentino looked feral as his head whipped toward him, teeth bared. Vox called his fists and stood his ground, ready to defend despite the anxiousness threatening to consume him. Then, with a dismissive scoff, Valentino stormed toward the door. “Fine. Have it your way, you cold-hearted tease. I’ll find someone else who’s willing.”

The door slammed behind him, the sound reverberating through the room. Vox stood there in the silence, his chest heaving with a mixture of relief and guilt.

Vox lifted his hands. He couldn’t believe he actually used his power against Valentino. He should be horrified. He loved him, didn’t he?

He shook his head, walked to the window and gazed out at the sprawling city. Alastor had warned him. Valentino had always been dangerous. But Alastor wasn’t innocent either. Both demons had used him in their own ways, toying with his emotions, treating him like a plaything.

Vox pressed a hand to his screen, staring at his reflection in the glass. He couldn’t keep letting them do this to him. Maybe it was time for a change. Time to stop being their pawn. Alastor had given him an ultimatum, but that doesn't mean that Alastor and Val were his only options.

Maybe—just maybe—it was time for him to choose himself.

Chapter 16: Publicity Stunt

Chapter by Pseudonym_of_a_Ghost

Summary:

Previously: Vox decided to choose himself. Let's hear it for some self-respect!

Valentino leaned back in his swivel chair, propping his feet on the desk cluttered with crumpled papers, half-empty bottles, and bullet shells. The office was dim, illuminated only by the glow of his cellphone screen. He scrolled through his feed. A smirk tugged at his lips as he recalled the power he held over everyone, but lately, that feeling was slipping away, like sand through his fingers.

“Where’s the buzz?” he grumbled. There used to be posts, photos, and raucous comments about his latest exploits. But now? Silence. It gnawed at him, an unsettling feeling he tried to dismiss. He leaned back, frowning at the screen. “Maybe it’s just a slow week,” he muttered, unwilling to accept that something might be off.

He thought back to the last few events—the whispers he’d caught, the sidelong glances from employees. Were they looking at him differently? Nah, they were just jealous. His swagger returned, the familiar bravado pushing aside the creeping doubt. “They’ll come around. They need me,” he assured himself, but the words felt thin, hollow.

As he scrolled, something caught his eye. A video. His brow furrowed as he clicked on it, the footage playing out like a bad dream. It showed him—his temper flaring, his hands shoving a co-worker against a wall. Anger roared inside him, and he slammed his hand on the desk. “What the hell is this?”

Leaning closer, he watched himself snap at another employee, shouting obscenities. Wasn’t Velvette supposed to be all over this? Even Vox can wipe this out in a second. Were they slacking? It was bad enough that Vox was acting like a prude. Maybe another visit would—

A memory flashed in his mind— Vox had used electricity against him once. The shock of it, the fear it had instilled in him. He quickly brushed it aside. “They’re just getting lazy,” he rationalized, dismissing the thought. “Vox wouldn’t do that again, and it's their job to make sure our reputation was pristine. Why should I lift a finger when they’re the ones falling short?”

Valentino stood up, pacing the office, feeling the walls close in around him. The thought of Vox had him seething, how he dared to raise a finger against him when Valentino’s been so patient—it made him want to break something. He clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, letting the pain ground him. “Vox needs me. That bitch of an Omega’ll be eating from the palm of my hand soon enough,” he declared, though deep down, the confidence wavered.

He glanced back at the monitor, seeing unflattering images of himself plastered on it. Just his own face, twisted in rage, juxtaposed with Vox’s easy smile. “What a joke,” he scoffed, shoving a few papers aside. “I’m not here to worry about PR. I’m here to be sexy, to do my job.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t ignore the whispers that seemed to grow louder each day.

“Is Valentino even relevant anymore?” he overheard one employee say to another in the break room, their voices dropping when they noticed him passing by. The sting of their words didn’t fully register; he dismissed it as jealousy, nothing more. A bullet would fly, a head would explode, and the voices would be silent. He’d always been the star. But as the weeks went by, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing.

He remembered how Vox used to revel in their successes, how they’d celebrated together after big projects. Now, it felt like he was riding the coattails of the Vees’ hard work. He had always been more of a presence than a participant, and maybe that was starting to show. But Valentino shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. “I’m still the face,” he insisted, though the words felt less convincing with each passing day.

He clicked through more posts, catching glimpses of Vox and Velvette. It was mostly them in the office, some random pictures here and there. But this was Valentino’s choice, he was busy. He didn’t need that much of an online presence to remind people who he was. That unsettling feeling returned, a knot tightening in his stomach. The two of them were always together, laughing, working, strategizing—everything he should have been part of. The realization that he was being pushed out began to seep in, but he quickly brushed it aside. “It’s just a phase,” he told himself. “Vox wouldn’t ditch me. It’s just an Omega and his pup. Nothing beats his dedication to his Alpha.”

But as he kept scrolling, he noticed more videos—his aggressive tendencies towards employees and clients, all captured in vivid detail. He frowned at the footage of him towering over a trembling intern, shouting until they flinched. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter. “Whatever,” he grumbled. “That’s their fault for not keeping up.”

His mind raced, spinning tales of how Vox would soon realize his mistake—abandoning the one who truly understood him. He could practically hear Vox’s voice in his head, begging for forgiveness, yearning for another chance.

“Yeah, he’ll be back,” he told himself, grinning. “Just wait.”

But as the tension simmered in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that he was losing control. The employees whispered more often now, their eyes darting away as he passed. Even the clients seemed hesitant, stepping back when he approached, their admiration turning into wariness.

“Whatever,” he grumbled, his voice low and dangerous. He could feel the fury boiling over and directed it at the closest co-worker, who flinched under his glare. “Get back to work, or I’ll make you regret it.”

He caught himself smirking, adrenaline surging as he watched the fear in their eyes. It fueled him, driving away the doubt, but deep down, that nagging suspicion took root.

“Damn it,” he spat, teeth grinding. 

---

Valentino jolted awake, the remnants of last night’s activities still clinging to him like a cheap cologne. The room was dim, the morning light filtering through the curtains, casting shadows on the tangled sheets where his employee lay, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside him. He rubbed his eyes, pushing the fog of sleep away, when a notification chimed from his phone on the nightstand.

Curiosity piqued, he reached for it, the screen lighting up with a barrage of alerts. His heart sank as he scanned the headlines: “Vox and Velvette Steal the Show at Last Night’s Gala!” followed by photos of them looking stunning together, laughter echoing through the glossy pages of the articles. His stomach churned at the sight of Vox’s easy smile, the way Velvette leaned into him, radiant and captivating.

“What the hell?” he snarled, tossing the phone down, frustration boiling inside him. How dare they have a good time without him? It was infuriating! Valentino was the star of this operation, the one with the charisma and allure. Or so he thought. The thought of them enjoying themselves while he lay in bed, alone and forgotten, ignited a fire of rage. His hands clenched into fists.

But the anger morphed into panic as he continued scrolling. Speculations about his diminishing relevance filled the comment sections, whispers of his impending ousting from the Vees circling like vultures. He felt a heat rising in his chest, a mixture of betrayal and disbelief. They were moving on without him, and how dare they!

“Damn it!” he hissed, shooting up from the bed. He glanced back at the sleeping woman beside him, her face serene, unaware of his internal chaos. In a fit of frustration, he slammed the pillow down on her face, holding it until the body stopped squirming beneath it. Just for a moment, it felt good to unleash his fury. 

The elevator doors slid open with a ding, and he strode into the lobby of The Vee Tower, ignoring the surprised looks from the employees. Whispers followed him like a shadow, mocking laughter ringing in his ears. It only fueled his anger, the feeling of being cast aside driving him forward.

Bursting through the office doors, he found Vox and Velvette seated at their desks, poring over some papers. They didn’t even look up at his entrance, their indifference cutting deeper than any insult he’d heard so far. The air in the room felt heavy, charged with unspoken tension.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded, his voice booming with a mix of rage and desperation. “Why the hell didn’t you include me in that gala?”

Vox finally looked up, a neutral expression on his face, while Velvette sighed, clearly unbothered. “It didn’t seem like your style,” Vox replied, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

Valentino’s fists clenched tighter. “What do you mean it didn’t seem like my style? I’m part of this! You should have sent me a reminder!”

“Val, we did send you the details,” Velvette said, her voice cool and dismissive. “You didn’t show up, and we assumed you didn’t want to go. You’ve been complaining about these things for weeks.”

“Complaining?” Valentino spat, disbelief mingling with anger. “You think I’m going to be okay with being left out? You’re trying to cut me out! Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because we’re not your parents, Valentino,” Vox shot back, his patience wearing thin. “You need to keep your affairs in order. We can’t hold your hand.”

Valentino felt a sharp pang of realization hit him, but instead of despair, it only fueled his rage. How dare they treat him like this? He was the one with the power! The one who had helped elevate their brand! They needed him, but they were too blind to see it. A barrier was forming between them, and he wouldn’t let them build a wall without a fight.

“You think I think I’m stupid?” he shouted, but his anger flared. “I’m not the problem here! You two think you’re so clever, but I built this place! I made it work! You’re nothing without me!”

Velvette rolled her eyes, a gesture that felt like a slap in the face. Vox's gaze hardened, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “We’re sick and tired of you depending on us and throwing tantrums when shit doesn’t go your way. Calm down, take the load off, and do what you usually do.”

A notification chimed on his phone and he saw a large amount deposited into his account. Usually this would be enough to calm him but it barely did anything to lessen his anger. He stepped toward Vox but Velvette cleared her throat. He turned to her and her phone was put down, her eyes staring at him. She wasn’t glaring but the focus she had on him was unsettling. He looked back at Vox who narrowed his eyes at him, electricity dancing from his knuckles drumming against his desk.

The realization that he was losing grip on the world he once dominated settled in, heavy and suffocating. Panic rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down, struggling to keep his composure.

“Fine,” he said, keeping his voice stead before stepping back. He assumed his laid back persona and wiggled his hips as he walked to the door. “Just know that if something like this happens again, I won’t be as lenient as I am now.”

Vox and Velvette exchanged glances before they shrugged, going back to what they were doing, attention elsewhere. Valentino walked out of the room and breathed a sigh of relief.

Relief?

He took a nearby vase and broke it against a nearby employee, shattering his skull. He pulled out his gun, shooting anybody vaguely appearing as a silhouette in his line of sight, reveling from the smell of metal in the air and the smoke wafting from the barrel of his gun. He threw, smashed, and broke whatever was near him, leaving a whirlwind of chaos in his wake as he walked out of the tower.

Regardless of what was happening, whether it was a passing inconvenience or an actual ploy to bring him down, he’d make sure to pull down everyone with him. This company won’t survive without him and he sure as Hell won’t let it, especially without destroying his precious colleagues beyond repair.

After all, a broken Omega is the best there is.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Axioms of a TV